


to the evil i have done

by WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn



Series: Fallen from Grace [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Healing, Mind Control, Multi, Past Relationships, Superpowers, Villain Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, hero thomas, hurt and comfort the typical one, mention of violence, past trauma, sorta secret identity now, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn/pseuds/WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn
Summary: Virgil and Thomas are back at it again- having figured out their secret identities and starting to deal with everything that has happened, there might be a bigger threat coming at them, something that should have stayed in the past.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Thomas Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Fallen from Grace [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790350
Comments: 108
Kudos: 128





	1. have you heard the news that you're dead?

_"The notorious villain, the Fallen Angel hasn't been seen in weeks after his involvement in a shooting at a warehouse previously raided by the police due to an anonymous hint on drug manufacturing inside the building._

_Multiple witnesses claim to have seen the villain 'stumbling' through the city, some photos showing evidence of bullet wounds. Currently, the circumstances and whether both is in relation to the other is unclear._

_However, this morning, resident hero- the Prince- has held a press conference in front of the town hall, to give some insight into the situation and calm down the public."_

The screen widened and blended over to footage of the hero, dressed in his white suit, standing in front of the still under reconstruction standing town hall. Masses of people were gathered to watch him, some holding signs and others simply holding up their phones to film the scene.

He let his gaze wander across the crowd before finally opening his mouth to speak.

_"My fellow citizens, I know you are worried and scared- understandably so in this peculiar situation. But I can assure you that this-"_ he seemed to struggle for a moment- _"small nuisance, the Fallen Angel, will not cause any harm in the future. I have personally made sure of that."_

"You make it sound like you killed me," Virgil remarked as he changed his head's position on his father's lap, legs outstretched on the couch. "And honestly? _Small nuisance?_ I'll let you know, I stole a Van Gough once."

"You stole a replica- _and_ brought it back a day later, that hardly counts."

He scoffed. "Whatever."

It was still weird to discuss these things so... Openly.

There was nothing that could describe just how relieved he'd felt after finally having his family know what had been going on. (A huge factor also being that they had not, as he had feared, immediately handed him over to the police.)

Sure, the first days had been a nightmare; and sometimes he'd been tempted to just try his luck and mind control them into forgetting everything that had happened.

But he hadn't - and that's what counted.

They had started out with clearing things up.

Like the exact circumstances of his powers surfacing, which Logan had been tempted to document but had quickly made up his mind about when Thomas had used his scary voice.

Or asking him a bunch of questions what he knew about his powers, whether he could control animals as well (Patton's question) and whether he'd used it to get out of trouble before.

He had tried to be as honest as possible, but still careful as to just how much he was willing to reveal to them.

And then they had cried. A lot.

Because their lives had been running so similarly and parallel to each other without noticing, because of how obviously unobvious things had been.

And when Virgil had admitted to having them forcefully forget about certain events that could have revealed him (and sometimes very much did), they hadn't even found the strength to be mad at him.

But the past three weeks had also been awkward.

Sometimes, either of them would recall encounters between the _Fallen Angel_ and the _Prince_ , which then had either left them laughing on the floor or sitting in silence.

(Too be honest, Virgil was still mentally patting himself on the back for calling the Prince a "Disney copyright infringement", no matter how affronted his father had been.)

On top of that came the fact that Virgil still had to recover.

Patton had insisted on healing naturally, on one hand to make sure that his body found the strength on its own; but he was pretty sure that it was also to make sure that he couldn't dodge them and had to face them.

At one point, his godfather had let him in on secretly being relieved that he hadn't lost the feeling in his legs, or started coughing up blood. Something that would have been nice to know beforehand, if he was being honest.

Which was why he'd been forced to take it slow; taking short walks around the neighbourhood, not lifting anything heavy and having to let his dad help him with showering "just to make sure he wouldn't fall".

("Virgil, you _can't_ not shower for a month, I won't look, I promise!")

It had been an interesting experience for all of them.

* * *

Looking down at Virgil lying on his back, head comfortably resting on Thomas' lap, he couldn't help but smile fondly.

The past weeks had been rough; coming to terms with everything, trying to come up with rules and certain boundaries they should all stick to (including Logan not studying Virgil until at least after he was fully recovered), and adjusting to the situation.

Virgil had been very closed up about everything at first, crying as he confessed every single time he had taken advantage of his powers. They knew that he wasn't telling them everything, but they were happy with everything he shared.

It was a very careful process that had left all of them drained, even bringing Logan to shed a few tears. (Who blamed it on their terrible air conditioning inside the house, mainly.)

He also had to adjust to just how touchy the teen had become within such a short time.

Insisting on sleeping in the same bed sometimes, hugging multiple times a day out of nowhere, cuddling sessions on the couch.

It wasn't a bad thing, actually quite the opposite, but it made his heart shatter a little bit more at the thought that maybe this had been something his son had wanted for years now.

_"What we can say with certainty,"_ Thomas attention was brought back to the screen where a bald man labelled 'expert' at the bottom (which seemed highly unprofessional in his opinion) was talking:

_"that the Fallen Angel is most likely white, about 5''5' and approximately between twenty and thirty years old."_

"I'm five four but I like that they think that."

And he had thought that too - especially the age group the media thought he fit into.

Which was another thing that he had tried to repress for Virgil's sake: the fact that he had literally beaten him up - multiple times probably to the brink of breaking a bone.

He had tried to bring it up once, but the teen had simply shook his head, telling him to not worry about it and _"Dad, I said it's okay."_ \- which it was definitely not.

But he couldn't think about these things now, not when he was still needed to be strong and _there for him._

"Stop it."

He looked down to see Virgil fixing him with a calculated glare.

"I'm going to call Patton if you keep moping around. I said it's fine."

"Are you manipulating me?"

"Wouldn't you believe me if I was?" He sat up, shushing Thomas' hand away as he tried to help him. When he was seated upright next to him, he continued talking: "I already said I don't do it unless it is an emergency."

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine."

He couldn't hear that damn word anymore.

Crying in his sleep, asking him whether he was still sure that he loved Virgil, the kid had returned to saying that it was fine - just a nightmare.

Wincing whenever he made a too excessive movement- it was fine, he was okay.

Seeing himself on the news, taken apart; judged and analysed by a bunch of strangers - it was fine, he had done this, he probably deserved it.

"No it's not. You can't go around forgiving and forgetting everything." He searched for any form of understanding in his son's eyes. "It will eat you up from the inside if you don't talk about it. That includes telling me off."

Virgil scoffed. "Alright, then I'm telling you to drop it. I know you're trying to work through this as fast as possible - but that's not how it works for me, okay? I'm _trying_ but I can't just turn around and just lay out everything on the open."

That was understandable. Or, it was since Logan had berated him to take the time he'd kept his secrets from them into consideration.

"I know - sorry."

Trying to change the topic, he had an idea that might as well work to cheer the both of them up. "How about a round around the city?"

"I already took a walk today I don't-"

"You know what I mean."

There it was.

That little smirk Virgil had given him ever since he'd learnt were they had hidden the sweets from him, being caught red-handed with his face stuffed with marshmallows.

"Logan would be mad."

"Logan doesn't have to know."

"Patton said I should be careful with the wound."

"You seem to forget that I have healing powers, it's just that Patton insisted it would probably be better if it healed on it's own."

Virgil stood up quickly and put his hands on his hips.

"You're _so_ irresponsible." Then he smiled, "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my fbi agent must think i've gotten shot or something, considering that i read multiple articles on GSWs to the abdomen. some of it was stupid- since i'm pretty sure EVERYONE would be concerned if they're COUGHING UP BLOOD.  
>  so yeah.
> 
> this was sort of an introductioinary chapter, so nothing major yet.
> 
> i also have a tumblr for my writing now! so.... ask me stuff? give me suggestions? i think i'm gonna start prompts.  
>  i'm planning to upload stuff but so far i've been far too lazy to do so.  
>  maybe check me out! https://theoswritingblog.tumblr.com/


	2. you really need to listen to me

"Holy shit," Virgil stumbled back a few steps. "I forgot how high this is."

His father turned back to him in confusion, himself still standing on the edge of the building's rooftop. "Are you okay? We can go home if you want."

"It's fine, I just- wait, what's this?"

There had been a small device in his pocket that he pulled out.

He had of course realized (from the second he had put on his hoodie) that the others must've done something to it, changed it in some way - the same had applied to his mask.

But the only difference he had noticed so far had been that his mask seemed to somehow cancel out too much light - and improved his vision in the dark.

"Oh, that! Communicator, if you're in trouble, press it and we know where you are. Logan insisted on it, same with the Se-pre sheet on your mask."

"Se-pre," Virgil repeated slowly, not really sure whether he'd heard correctly.

"Self- preservation," Thomas broke into a smirk, "Don't you think we considered someone still trying to get your identity? Se-pre changes your iris' appearance roughly every fraction of a second. So no one will be able to get anything from a possible picture."

"Is that even legal?"

"Is either of us protected by law?" When he didn't answer, his father shook his head and looked sorrowful down at the city. "There are always people out to get you, no matter what you do. They want you for your powers, and they're going to get you- some way or the other."

This could have been just a warning, or a very specific clue to a backstory Virgil hadn't heard of that he didn't feel like he had unlocked yet.

Either way, not wanting to dive deeper into whatever he was referring to, the teen chuckled awkwardly. "I'll remember that. So... What's the plan?"

The hero shrugged. "Look for trouble and stop it? Most nights there's not much going on, to be honest."

"'Cause I'm the epitome of stopping trouble," he deadpanned.

"There's a first time for everyone."

Though it was nice to have his father acknowledge his sorta-evil persona, the pushes into the 'right' direction hadn't gone unnoticed.

A little comment on using your powers for good here, another one there; occasionally he would even go as far as tell him about a story that Virgil was a hundred percent sure didn't happen like that.

And it was lowkey pissing him off.

But he knew that he couldn't just blow up about this, especially now. After all, Thomas was just doing what he had been doing the past twenty years or so.

The problem was that he was trying to implement it into him, as if he just wanted to get past everything that had happened, everything that Virgil had been in the past.

He wasn't evil, necessarily.

But he had done more harm than he could ever admit, for his own sanity's sake.

"You okay there?"

Crap. "Uh, yeah. Just. I thought- the razzia?"

Because that's how you speak English when you're completely fine, a snarky voice remarked in the back of his head. So he tried again: "I mean, the drug razzia, the one I got shot at. Wait- no, that makes it sound like I've been to others- which I haven't. I just thought that there maybe are...more?"

For a second, the hero just stared at him. "You mean see if there are more warehouses in that area with something illegal going on?"

"Yes!"

Not looking entirely convinced, but probably not having any other ideas, he nodded.

"What are the chances," he shrugged.

* * *

"I'm worried for them, sometimes," Patton sighed as he took another sip of his hot chocolate. "This entire thing is just awful, I don't even want to imagine how Virgil must be feeling."

Logan hummed, deeply invested in rewriting and reviewing the notes he had taken on the Fallen Angel just mere months ago. There were just so many things about his powers, their manifestation as well, that were in no accordance to anything that he knew had been documented.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" His eyes snapped to his husband, who was sitting across the kitchen aisle. Some time must have passed since he'd sat down there after dinner, considering that Patton had already changed into his pyjamas.

The other rolled his eyes. "Don't you worry about them? And I mean apart from your research."

"Logan adjusted his glasses. "Of course I am worried. But I simply choose to 'chill', given that we have given them a sufficient amount of input and suggestions. The rest unfortunately being up to them."

And he would be lying if he'd be claiming that it didn't strike him as problematic. Thomas parenting skills had been...less than acceptable in past years.

Him suddenly slipping into a concerned parents, right after Virgil had told them his secret, had only confirmed Logan's suspicion that the teen had somehow used his powers on all of them. And that they had certain limits.

"I just don't want them to get hurt."

Carefully removing his hands from the hot mug, he grabbed his partner's hands. "We have gone through other life impacting situations with Thomas before. We will find a solution."

Patton sighed. "I know. I just hope they don't get themselves involved in something stupid."

* * *

"Right, right, what are the chances," Virgil muttered as he checked his father's pulse.

"This is exactly why you keep out of other villains' shit." He looked down at the unconscious man before pressing the button on his Communicator again. "Patton is going to kill me."

Half an hour earlier

"Fuck," he muttered when he realized that there indeed seemed to be something sinister going on.

It didn't take Logan to figure out that the very woman who had shot him three weeks ago now entering the building with two shady looking men couldn't mean good.

"I've got a plan. Virgil, I want you to call the police and stay right here. Do you understand? I don't want you involved."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Easy," the hero stepped to the building's edge, securing his mask another time. "I will prevent evil."

For a few seconds, the teen didn't really react much. There was a mixture of utter disbelief and total denial as to how this man was even able to keep himself alive when starting the car.

He found himself questioning how anyone could mistake this act of foolishness as bravery - because there was no way in hell that he would.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Looking down at the warehouse, he replied: "Gun shots at 56th Street, Northwest. The sign says Ronnie's warehouse. I think someone died, hurry up."

"Sir, could you-"

"Just hurry."

He had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

* * *

"I don't know what this is about but how about we play nice and put our hands up?"

To say that he had lied to Virgil when telling him about having a plan was about as accurate as it could get.

So finding himself stumbling through an unlit warehouse, only to end up at a door that led into a room with three occupants, the very same from minutes before, was better than he could've thought for.

And neither of them seemed to have a gun on them, so that was a start.

"Princess, I'm impressed. How's the boy?" The woman swiftly got up and leant against the table suggestively.

The other two men didn't seem entirely sure what to do about the situation, so they just looked at her for advice.

"Put your hands up and walk to the front with me, and I'll tell them you cooperated."

Always bargain with the villain, even if you theoretically have no law supporting you- step number one Logan had implemented into his head.

"Is that what you told the kid?"

Just what was she getting at?

He seemed to hesitate for too long because the woman started talking again:

"Aw, you haven't figured yet," she smiled. "Then I'll leave you to it. But tell him he's welcome for the dropped charges. Some people had to die."

"I have no idea what you-"  
"Boys-" she dismissively waved her right hand. "shut him up. I think he needs some beauty sleep."

Then his vision faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> famous last words, patton.   
> i had a stroke trying to spell 'pyjamas' because the word just completely escaped my mind. (i almost convinced myself it's spelled 'piyamas')
> 
> again, you can hit me up on tumbrl ! https://theoswritingblog.tumblr.com/   
> or just leave comments and/or kudos :)


	3. i've lost my fear of falling

"I'm asking once more, are you in cooperation or have any ties to the group distributing the blue dust in this city?"

Virgil scoffed once more, arms still crossed in front of his chest. "As I said, I don't know them. I'm not involved in some drug cartel."

"Then why did we find you with a passed out hero _minutes_ after a call about a gunshot disturbance went in?"

This was _so_ frustrating.

He'd been in the interrogation room for an hour now, forty- five minutes of that spent trying to convince some detective that he was innocent - on this claim.

The worst was that he had no idea how his father was doing.

"Just ask the _Prince_ , his story will match mine."

"Oh yes," the detective chuckled and smiled at him in a way that would put Dolores Umbridge out of position- "the story about you and the _Prince_ getting to the crime scene 'on a whim', finding three 'bad guys' and then him deciding to check it out on his own while you stay behind?"

He nodded.

The detective placed his hands on the table again, looking down at him. "Out of everything I have ever heard from a criminal in my _entire_ career, there is nothing as _ridiculous_ as this. I have an idea what really went down tonight."

Oh had he? "Surprise me."

"You mind- controlled the _Prince_ to go to the warehouse with you to take it out on the woman you claim shot you- and maybe she did. So this is some feud you've kept up and decided to use him as your weapon. But you knew that he stood no chance." He spat out the last words, leaning into his personal space so much that it made the teen uncomfortable.

"Great theory," he replied. "But it's _shit_. As I said, I have no idea who that lady is; I don't _work_ with her, nor have I ever _seen_ her before she shot me. So why on earth would I try to get rid of the _Prince_ by bringing him to her?"

"So you admit to trying to kill the _Prince_."

"What- _No_!"

He sighed, massaging his temples. What he'd do for a glass of water and some sleep.

"I'm telling you, what I've been saying is the truth. Just ask him and he'll confirm."

With a metal squeak, the door to the interrogation room opened and Logan stepped inside.

The detective immediately turned to him, face contorting into a worse than before scowl. "I still have ten minutes."

"No, you don't. The chief is currently signing the release papers, not to mention that his-" he gestured to Virgil- "claims match with the _Prince_. You have no legal reason for keeping him here."

"Of course," the detective scoffed, then built himself up in front of Logan. "I just don't get why an advocate of _Sanders Tech_ , who just weeks ago swore on imprisoning this _low-life_ , suddenly speaks in his name."

Logan gave him a challenging look. "I for my part wonder why you got promoted to your position in the first place, considering you did not manage to pass three out of the five necessary tests."

The detective hesitated, obviously trying to come up with something equally insulting. "Get out."

The teen got up, still careful to make sure that this wasn't just a scam and he was about to get shot in 'self defence'.

When no one seemed opposed to his movement, he quickly walked over to Logan, who put a hand on his back and practically pushed him out of the room.

Just when they were out of earshot, the adult began talking. "Just _what_ were the two of you _thinking_?"

Oh, so he was _mad_. Part of him really wanted to care, but his entire body was just screaming at him to finally get some rest, the adrenaline having worn out and his injury aching.

"I wasn't-"

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to get you out of here?"

They passed a group of policemen and Logan shut up.

"Sorry," he muttered when they were alone again.

"Just wait until we're home."

* * *

Currently, Thomas was facing one of the scariest people he'd ever encountered in his lifetime: a furious Patton.

Admittedly, furious might be the wrong word, considering that he was still pacing up and down the living room in worry and not simply staring at Thomas. (One does not mess with his cardigans, not even when it was meant as a joke.)

After having come to his senses again, Thomas had been asked to answer some questions to a detective and had been informed that they currently had the _Fallen Angel_ in for questioning.

So still being checked on by paramedics, he solely blamed it on his previous blow to the head that he was the only one unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

"He is still recovering from a gunshot wound and you thought it would be a good idea to catch not _some_ criminal- but the one _who shot him in the first place_?!"

It had been going on like this for a while now.

Patton wasn't really waiting for answers, he had figured that much already after he got yelled at even louder for replying with a 'no'.

And in a way he had realized that this was his friend's way of finally letting out his frustration about the entire Virgil situation- so he let him have it.

"How about I make some tea and we sit down to-"

He was interrupted by a car parking in the driveway and car doors slamming shut. Exchanging a glance with Patton, he already knew to put on some coffee.

Immediately when the front door opened, the other sprinted up to Virgil- who looked downright miserable walking behind Logan- and engulfed him in a deep hug. As he began to mother the teen, he was pushed aside, being turned down with a muttered: " 's fine."

Thomas held up the coffee for anyone to show their interest in a cup but was shut down quickly by Logan's glare.

So he simply followed them to the couch, where they seemed to hold their crisis meetings from now on.

Trying not to be too obvious, he looked his son up and down, seeing that he had taken off his disguise by now and was assuring Patton that he wasn't in pain.

"I'm disappointed in you. The both of you," Logan finally said. "We made it clear that you should remain out of trouble and primarily sort through your issues, not go around and running 'head first' into trouble."

With a pointed glare, he shot down Thomas attempt to say something.

"It is primarily your responsibility as an adult to ensure Virgil's safety- and you neglected it within _hours_ of us not being present."

"I didn't _plan_ for this," he tried to defend himself. "I just wanted to get him back into it and out of here. Not using your powers for a long time can make you agitated, so I thought we'd go for a flight."

There, proper reasoning with laid out good intentions. He hadn't meant for Virgil to get involved in something sketchy again- that's why he'd told him to stay outside.

"So how did you come across the woman?"

"It was my idea," Virgil piped up from his corner of the couch, a significant amount of space between him and the others. "I just- I thought that- sometimes- that there might be some break-ins or something." He shrugged. "Smuggling, I don't know."

"But your wound-"

"It's not that bad anymore, okay Patton? And dad is right-" he spared a glance at him before looking back at the coffee table- "it was nice to use my powers again."

"Marvellous," Logan shook his head. "So we are all going to agree that this was just some family bonding time and ignore the unavoidable outcome? Or the significantly more concerning revelation?"

The outcome, Thomas could explain to himself.

Having someone, especially Logan, from _Sanders Tech_ to vouch and actually bail the company's sworn enemy out of trouble involving the _Prince_ would be enough to cause a media uproar.

But he was sure that it was something that could easily be fixed by twisting some details in their favour.

"What do you mean?" Patton asked, apparently just as confused as him.

"Weren't we confused as to why the _Angel's_ criminal record was simply dropped, without being included in the mind control he had inflicted upon Thomas?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Virgil shift uncomfortably.

"Well," Logan adjusted his glasses.

"It turns out that five people mysteriously vanished for some time. Three of them being the head of the police department, the FBI intendant responsible for the _Fallen Angel_ , the State Judge and two other people in control in case of a conviction.

All five of them gave their affirmations to drop the charges and the record, and a few days later two of them were involved in fatal car accidents right before they wanted to tell the police something important."

"You're saying someone..." Patton let the statement hang in the air.

Logan nodded. "I would say that we can exclude Virgil from the list of possible perpetrators, if it wouldn't be for the fact that he would've had the chance to do these things." He turned to the teen. "You could have obtained their information from our security system and called them."

This didn't feel right.

Sitting here with the two people he trusted most and his son, whom he'd spent the majority of the past few weeks with. He'd met this version of him that he never knew existed, had figured out things that he wished he hadn't known.

But he was sure that Virgil wasn't a murderer.

"Logan, this is _enough_."

"You can't deny that he has proven to be able to do things we wouldn't necessarily trust him to do. Besides, wouldn't he correct us if it weren't true?"

"You're saying he _killed_ someone!"

"Just weeks ago _you did too_!"

A heavy silence settled between them.

He glanced over to Patton who was trying not to cry, hunched over on the couch and fixated on a cup of water, watching a fly struggling not to drown.

Logan was fixing his tie, slowly regaining his composure as he sat up straight and blinked away some tears of his own.

His son was the worst of them: eyes fixed on the table, barely looking like he was breathing at all.

Virgil finally exhaled loudly.

"Thanks," he said, his voice sounding strangled, as if he himself was trying his hardest not to break down. "I thought you trusted me."

"Virge-"

"Don't try it. I didn't _do_ it, okay?"

"I am sorry," Logan began. "I realize that my nerves went through with me. I am aware that it is unlikely that you would do such a thing but-"  
"It's fine." Virgil finally looked up at them, expression void of anything. "I'm the villain, I get it. Would've been nice to have someone actually believe in me for once."

He stood up, bumping into the table. "I'm going to bed. Unless you find any other odd circumstance that you can blame on me."

They let him go without another word.

As he heard the door to the bedroom shut close, Thomas let out a pained sigh.

"What the hell, Logan."

"I apologized." He ignored Patton's glare. "But if it wasn't him, the question still remains as to who might be interested in helping him. We know that he hasn't been involved with other criminals."

His head hurt and he wasn't sure whether it was from getting knocked out or from the argument they'd all just had.

"Can we do this tomorrow? I can't think straight anymore - and I need to check on Virgil. We'll discuss this in the office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was about to apologize for the delay but then realized four days is not a lot, then realized that my perception of time is very fucked.  
> anyway, some angst (and a chapter i'm finally proud of again).  
> i'm sorry, but we gotta get to where i want to go and i can't have them be okay for that. 
> 
> https://theoswritingblog.tumblr.com/


	4. i heard the echo from his secret hideaway

_"Don't you dare pretend you care."_

_He looked up at him, hurt evident in his eyes._

_"Have you even thought about me in this? I know I haven't been the-" he chocked on his own words, shaking his head. He was trying his hardest to continue, "I haven't been the best, I haven't been the smartest- I know that I have been nothing like you. But this?!"_

_Thomas head hurt, a throbbing pain that felt as if somebody was repeatedly knocking on his brain; a reminder of their fight._

_"I tried to help you."_

_Just why couldn't he see that? He had done everything he could, had done only the most necessary things to ensure that he was safe after all-_

_"So this is why you keep things from me? Make decisions about me behind my back? Decide that I will be okay with this?"_

_"I said," his voice grew louder, "that I just wanted to help you."_

_He chuckled. "Of course, you **hero** ," he spat the word out," keep telling yourself that."_

_All of a sudden, his expression started to shift, his entire face suddenly contorting into someone else._

_Into Virgil._

Thomas woke up in a cold sweat.

Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to reason with his brain that he was indeed awake and completely alone in the room, his surroundings the same as ever. There wasn't any light from the hallway coming through the crack of his door, so he concluded that he was probably also the only one awake.

Checking his phone, he realized that it had barely been three hours since he'd sent Logan and Patton back home- so nothing that would count as a good night's sleep, that much was for sure.

He decided to just damn it, and got up to fix himself some coffee.

_"Thomas, I do not think it would be wise to drink another cup," Logan remarked from beyond his own coffee, not even looking up from his book. "You've already consumed about twice the recommended amount for your weight, height and age."_

_Of course Logan would know how much he had already had. "It's only my fifth."_

_"Fifth?!" Patton gave him an incredulous look; a particularly interesting combination of a raised eyebrow, an open mouth and a frown- all the while looking like an abandoned puppy._

_"You can't drink that much! It's bad for your-" his friend stopped talking, probably remembering a very important aspect about Thomas._

_His abilities._

_"Still," he continued in a righteous tone while fixing his glasses, "my point remains. You still have anxiety that will only make you- **don't you even dare**."_

_Deciding to just fuck it, he gave the brunet a blank stare as he raised the cup of coffee to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he downed the entire thing in one go._

_With much more force than necessary, he placed the cup back on the table._

_"Strong disregard for his own health," Logan chimed up, pretending to write it down in a book he used to collect info on the powers._

_"I'm nineteen, I think I know what's good for me."_

_And he **did** \- just yesterday he'd made himself dinner, did the laundry **and** went shopping- everything all the while not using his powers. Like a normal person._

_"I'll keep that in mind the next time the **Incinerator** gives you a second degree burn." Patton smiled sweetly at him, taking an innocent sip from his hot chocolate. "I'm sure you'll know what's best."_

_Thomas groaned._

_Just how on earth had he ended up with these people as his best friends?_

He smiled fondly at the memory.

How these two had managed to stick around for (and with) him was a true mystery. After all, something like this was not to be trusted with upon just anyone.

Just thinking about it brought back a very unpleasant memory, one that he'd rather wished he'd forgotten.

_"You expect me to raise a child with you, when every time I turn on the tv I might see that you died, that some criminal finally got the better of you." Arms crossed in front of her chest, her foot tapping on the floor._

_She had taken it comparably well, considering that he hadn't told her anything about his powers in the past fourteen years. She had accepted his strange business trips, his last minute calls to his 'hobby' that mostly took place at night._

_In fact, she seemed to have been more relieved that her husband wasn't cheating on her._

_"I've been doing this for nearly twenty years- I'll be fine."_

_As he took a step forward to take her hands in his, she withdrew them and turned away from him._

_"How are we going to tell Virgil?"_

_Realization dawned on him, hitting him practically in the face. He could feel the colour drain from his cheeks, his mind suddenly going blank. "You don't mean this," he practically pleaded._

_She turned around again. "I do. I'll take Virgil to me as soon as I have a job and a place to stay. I've already talked to my mother and she thinks it's a better idea. Whatever you do with your life once he is safe with me is not my problem."_

_"No, no- you can't do this to me!"_

_After all, they'd been married for Virgil's entire life, had been together this long, no matter what had happened._

_"I can and I will." Her expression softened. "Don't you think that he deserves a normal life, away from these kinds of things? **You**?"_

He had tried, hadn't he?

He had kept it away from him, had made sure to keep everything under control, had kept every possible threat at arms length.

There was no way that he could've known that Virgil was just the same as him- not only meaning his powers, but also the aspect of keeping them a secret to make sure that everyone around him was fine.

Just as he pressed the button on the coffee machine, the kitchen light turned on and he blinked towards the figure standing at the bottom of the staircase.

Virgil yawned. "It's four in the morning, why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep, what's your excuse?"

He shrugged, then sat down on one of the chairs at the kitchen isle, frowning in dismay at the clock on the wall. "Me neither."

Thomas side-eyed the dark circles (that had luckily evolved from dark bags during the past weeks) that mirrored his own pretty well.

The teen had never really been the person to get a good night's sleep. But then again, maybe this entire thing they were stuck in had them both astray from any sort of regular sleeping schedule.

Logan had suggested some sleeping pills once, but they'd quickly written that off as a stupid idea when it made the _Prince_ too energetic and careless.

He turned to face his son completely and took in his hunched over figure.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said, more to himself than to the teen. But before he could answer, the coffee machine came to a halt and he had to turn around again.

Not that he wasn't relieved that he wouldn't have to see his son's reaction.

Busying himself with stirring in some milk, he waited for him to come up with some form of reply, not really sure if he even was in the position to demand one.

"Dad?"

He hummed as he took a sip even though he knew that it was still too hot to be consumed right away.

"Has there- I mean-" he sighed, looking down at his hands before slightly shaking his head, obviously deciding to not talk about whatever he actually wanted to talk about.

"What was the worst criminal you ever fought against?"

That was not what he had expected.

And he recognized that the child-like smile and excitement that had suddenly taken place in Virgil's face was just an act- a very good one at that.

But he was probably just trying to come up with something.

"Like, was there ever a villain that made you legit _terrified_?" he clarified.

_He turned to Logan._

_The man's eyes were fixed on the empty space, hands shaking._

_Because there should be a body._

_"He can't fly, can he?"_

_"Impossible," his friend adjusted his glasses, desperately trying to mask his own shock. "There's no chance that he could. We grew up with him, we would know."_

_Wouldn't we?, hung in the air._

_"I'm not sure if we know anything about him anymore," he muttered back._

_The pavement was empty, after all._

"I don't think so," he said finally. "After all, they're all pretty mediocre."

"Ouch," Virgil chuckled and Thomas let out a relieved laugh of his own, sure that his son had bought his lie.

"You're the most terrifying villain of them all, of course."

His son chuckled. "And you're sure there is none? What about this _Deceit_ guy they talked about on the news a while ago? The one that disappeared?"

"Him? Please, he was barely in the picture before he was out of it already."

"Sucks," he yawned, then shook his head. "I think I'm going back to bed, four in the morning is too optimistic for me. Do you mind?"

"No," he waved him off. "Sleep tight."

"Night, dad."

* * *

Virgil closed the door to his bedroom, sighing to himself.

He hadn't known just how much he'd wanted his father had told him the truth for once.

He flinched as he turned around and saw the woman sitting on his bed, stifling a scream that would surely alert Thomas.

"Do you believe me now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am beyond sorry for the delay, a lot has kept me occopied - but at least i figured out where i'm going with this story!  
> so just what has virgil gotten himself involved in now? just who is thomas thinking of?
> 
> hit me up on tumblr or leave comments! i hope you all have a nice day!


	5. don't trust a perfect person...

**Four hours earlier**

Sighing to himself, Virgil shut off his smartphone. He could still hear the others talking downstairs, the sound of the tap being turned on.

With an experienced swing, he lunged himself out of his window, making sure that he wouldn't be seen by any of his neighbours. Experience he had gained in years, too many encounters with their weird neighbour who tended to water his plants in the middle of the night that had made him wary of any onlookers.

Being sure that nobody would check on him, he took off, knowing that he was free to do what he wanted for the rest of the night.

Which was why he had found himself at the river shore, looking down into the blackish liquid that had never looked more alive, neither in the night time nor during daylight. A constant black mass that had probably seen its fair share of wasted life.

In another time, in another life perhaps, he might have been worried about the animals, or the small kids that could play near it. But now he figured that this was out of his league, something the Prince should have to deal with, some fundraiser or awareness speech. Or better, Thomas Sanders, company owner and activist.

Not Virgil, who didn't even feel like he could save his own life for the, well _life_ of him.

It had been going too good for too long, he had figured that much already.

After all, he was Virgil Sanders: fuck-up, good-for-nothing kid whose own parents didn't even know that he had superpowers.

So why would anything ever go well for him? After everything he had done?

Of course his family didn't trust him after all- he had never given them a good reason to. Coming to terms with them as who he really was didn't make them less suspicious, it probably just relived them to know where the culprit was.

And how to take him out, if necessary.

"Shut up," the teen muttered to himself, shaking his head as if that would magically fix the fallen pieces that seemed to make up his thoughts.

 _They loved him_. There was no reason for them to hate him, they had shown him that much during the past weeks, hadn't they? They were _worried_ and scared for him, that's why they tended to overreact at times.

Something completely reasonable that had nothing to do with him as a person.

_Hopefully._

The only way to force those thoughts to a halt was doing something. So he grabbed a stone that laid there on the ground, engrossed in mud and something Virgil prayed was just something sticky.

Throwing as hard as he could he tried to focus on the pain in his arm, the weird pull in his chest when he made a wrong movement, his joints aching when he bent down too fast and his head spinning when he threw another one immediately after without even catching a breath.

The motion was monotone and repetitive, something steady and grounding. Not to mention that the pain brought him to a high he hadn't felt since the drugs Patton had given him for his wounds had worn off.

He was so immersed in his motion, in fact, that he didn't even notice a car approaching and halting a few metres from him.

A door shutting close.

Someone walking up to him on the shore.

"Someone looks like he had a rough night," a woman's voice remarked.

He practically fell into the water in shock, the rock he was currently holding dropped in horror as he gaped at the very woman he'd seen far too many times in the past weeks to admit that he still didn't have a name for her.

Maybe Red Witch, considering her (now) red hair.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was informed you'd be here. In fact-" she stepped even closer- "I was counting on finally catching you alone."

"I don't know what you want from me, I'm not involved in shit."

She started laughing, throwing her head back and revealing a very expensive looking necklace. "What do people want? Why do they do things? I just happen to see your potential."

A dry chuckle escaped his mouth as he took in the lady's appearance once more. "Yeah sure, and I'm just going to help you. Like _hell_. You'd have to force me."

"I'm not going to," she replied calmly. "All I am going to tell you is that I know all about you, Virgil. Your address, your family members, your workplace... And I know about your father too, even more than you do.

Which is why I came to offer you the truth\- Thomas Sanders is not the person he pretends to be, I just want to help you see that."

What. The. Fuck.

_How did she know his name?_

Trying to act cool, and not as if she had just revealed that she knew of his actual identity, he forced himself to laugh. "I know, he's also Santa Clause-" he leant in in a conspiring manner and held his finger to his lips- "but don't tell the kids at the shopping mall."

The Red Witch just smiled. "You don't have to pretend, I can feel how scared you are until here. I can prove that I am telling you the truth."

"Sure," his voice dripped with fake-sweetness, "and you're just going to tell me something potentially shocking and devastating without wanting anything in return."

"Of course not." She seemed genuinely affronted. "I have my reasons behind telling you. But you'll want to help me anyways, after knowing the truth."

"I won't. I don't know _what the fuck_ you think of me, but I'm not going to turn around and just betray my own father!"

And again, she just smiled. (God, how he wished he could just-)

"Your father, of course. And what if I told you he has a body count? People he took the lives off?"

 _No he didn't_ , he wanted to argue but nothing came out of his mouth, his mind too scared by the sudden realisation that he had had at least the _chance_ to.

And you usually tend to assume things about someone based on yourself.

And his father had accused him of murder, had deemed him capable of it.

But Logan and Patton had also thought that, but again the fact that they technically were his accomplices could mean that-

"I see those gears turning," she commented as she moved her hand in a circular motion that felt strangely demeaning. "How about we discuss this in a more... Friendly establishment?"

* * *

"So," the Red Witch- Emilia, as she had introduced herself, began after taking a sip of her tea, "you must be wondering just who, and I can assure you that it's surprisingly not that many."

Virgil had reluctantly agreed to walk a bit with her and to take off his mask and hood; so that they could look like relatively normal people going for a simple drink at one in the morning.

Just a teenager dressed in black hanging out with a woman with bright red hair in a black business suit- truly nothing out of the ordinary.

"I don't even know why I agreed to this."

Emilia chuckled, then glanced at her smartphone and for a second Virgil felt the need to check whether his absence had been noticed, knowing that he would be greeted with an empty notification board.

"As I said, just two. The second one wasn't spectacular, really. Shot a defenceless police officer, put him in cement and sent him overboard. I liked his technique, of course, but the execution was a bit messy."

Nope.

Even though he knew that his father had probably had his reasons to kill someone - if he had even done something like this before - he really didn't think that the hero would do it like this. He was a hero, so why on earth would he have to make the corpse vanish?

At this point he knew that she must be telling nothing but lies, trying to set him up and... Do something, he didn't know.

"And what was the first? Or were you just going to skip to two and pretend there's actually something going on?" he challenged.

"Ever heard of _Deceit_?"

"Do you mean the synonym for fraud or are we talking about a person?" At her blank stare he leant back, satisfied with himself, smirking into his coffee.

" _Don't_ play smart with me, kid." She took a breath and collected herself. "I mean the villain. He was pretty similar to you as well, though his power was much more about deceiving people and turning their desires to his advantage. Barely older than you.

And you know what your father did? Pushed him off a building after a fight, leaving him to die on the cold concrete."

"He wouldn't do that."

Emilia smiled, "He wouldn't? You haven't even heard the best part. _Deceit_ was known for second-hand vandalism, controlling some people to do light shoplifting."

As Virgil didn't answer, she pressed on: "Sounds much more like a vigilante to me, what do you think? Much like you."

" _Bullshit_ ," he pressed out between his lips, while the nagging voice he had tried so hard to repress was calling out for the dark thoughts again, having a field day.

"Ask him. I bet he won't tell the truth."

Staring at her for a few more seconds, trying to come off as intimidating as he could in his pathetic state of denial, he stood up abruptly.

"I'm leaving," he announced more to the gaping college students at the table a few metres across than the woman.

As soon as the cool air of the night hit his face, he pulled out his phone.

_Deceit death villain_

He hit enter on the search bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! (on a previous schedule)
> 
> alright, now it's picking up, virgil is staring to question thomas. but just whooo is deceit? and did thomas really kill him?  
> (the lady got called emilia cause i'm uncreative and that was the first name that came to my mind)
> 
> yell at me on tumblr! https://theoswritingblog.tumblr.com/


	6. ...and don't trust a song that's flawless

**The same night, Patton and Logan's house**

"You can talk to me again," Logan informed his husband who had been ignoring him for the entire ride home, for the sake of staring out of the window with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

A clear sign that he was in no way content with the way the entire conversation had carried out.

"I don't want to."

As if realising that he had actually done just that, Patton huffed and turned around to hang up his jacket. "We barely had everything be okay, and you start making accusations. He started trusting us."

"I already explained that-"

Patton whirled around, a scowl on his face and his voice laced with barely contained aggression, "He is _sixteen_. You were saying that he actually killed people." Then he calmed down a bit, eyes shifting to a picture on the wall. "He's our little storm cloud, I don't think he would be capable of that. We saw him _grow up_ , we would know."

_We would know._

Logan was glad that he wasn't watching him, sure that his pained expression was apparent as the memory of that night surfaced; the empty pavement that haunted the darkest corners of his own mind. Taunting him, calling him a coward for never telling Patton the whole truth about what had happened.

But _Deceit_ had never been seen again. Which meant that their lie had been believable; and still stood strong after nearly twenty years.

"I am aware of that," he settled on. "Although in the wrong, I solely made suggestions-"

"Accusations."

"-to explain what might have been going on. What is certain is that there is someone who is trying to protect Virgil out of some reason, possibly to lure him into a potentially dangerous affair."

The other turned back to him, nodding in agreement. "He's still a villain- at least in the public eye. Especially after what happened today." He then shook his head, taking a couple steps forward so that he could hug Logan, burying his face in his chest. "Do you think we'll be okay one day?"

For a while he didn't reply, occupied with the way Patton's hair felt against his cheek as he comforted him.

"I'm afraid only time will tell."

* * *

**Present time**

"I'm here," Virgil announced as he slid into the conference room.

His behaviour didn't tell anything about the weeks he'd spent absent due to "an exploded appendix", which had also warranted them full understanding as to why Thomas hadn't been present either.

He leant against the table, looking from his godparents to his father, all of them with very serious expressions. "What's this about?"

"Four times the usual."

It took him a few seconds to understand what Patton had meant.

"I'm not being degraded to coffee boy again!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Yes you are, once you've got it you can take the day off if you've finished your tasks."

"But I-"

His father gave him a stern, but tired, look. "Just do what I ask of you, please."

And true, fifteen minutes later, he was cursing as he had to wait in line just to order the same thing he had been ordering every single time he'd been in the shop.

Just about two months ago he'd been here as well, pondering about his next step in his criminal career.

Without much thought to it, he made small talk with the barista that _no_ , he hadn't quit his job but had simply been on vacation. And _of course_ he was still having fun and no one was giving him a hard time.

Still not quite focused on the conversation, someone in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

In the far back of the shop, a man was staring at him intently, a smile playing on his lips as soon as he saw the teen looking over at him.

Any other day, Virgil would've listened to the voice inside of his head that remembered years of Patton's Stranger Danger talks, about creepy men that liked little boys in a bad way.

But today he was simply not having it.

Maybe it was because of his frustration about the previous night, or his general frustration towards the adults in his life. But this guy was not going to be weird and get away with it.

-And it wasn't like he was powerless in case something went wrong, if anything, the stranger should be the one to be afraid.

With determination, he strode over to the table in the far back, careful not to spill the coffee onto someone passing him from the opposite direction.

The man was still watching him, his smile seeming to mock him as he came closer, as he showed that he was aware of the older man's presence.

"Something funny?" Virgil finally asked as he came to a halt directly in front of the man. To anyone looking at them, they might have thought that they knew each other, potentially a student catching up with a teacher after school, or greeting a relative of sorts.

What they didn't see was the nuance of the smile Virgil was given. It held something dangerous, downright predatory.

Now close up, he could see that the man was very well dressed, the emblem of some high-end designer embroidered on his suit's chest - a look that didn't quite go with the aura the man was giving off.

He had brown hair, similar to his own, that was styled neatly into something that was probably supposed to look casual.

But what caught his attention in particular was the giant burn mark etched across the left side of his face which Virgil had brushed aside as a trick of the light.

"Staring is rude," the stranger commented and he forced himself to meet the man's eyes.

"Sorry," he began to apologize. But seeing the smile growing wider, he remembered why he had felt strange in the first place.

Ignoring the familiarity of the stranger's face, he demanded: "I want to know why you were watching me."

And for a second he could've sworn that the man had bought his confidence.

But in the blink of an eye, the surprise was covered up again; and the man motioned for him to sit down, his hand covered in a white glove.

**"You want to sit down, don't you?"**

No.

Obeying to the other voice instead of his own mind, he realized that he had sat himself down, staring wide eyed at the other who was only nodding smugly.

"We're quite similar, you know."

As he was trying to come up with an explanation as to how he could've just done that without powers- which he was now starting to doubt- he just helplessly asked: "Who are you?"

"The name is _Janus_ ," he emphasized while holding out his hand to shake.

Virgil's arm remained stoically in his lap.

"Don't leave me hanging, I'm sure your father taught you to be polite."

This time his body seemed to move on autopilot, hand held out and mumbling his own name.

He couldn't place where he had seen the man before in his life; sure that someone as off-putting as him would be forever burnt into his memory. Someone that could apparently do things similar to himself.

"I know already, Emilia told me you had quite the personality." Janus withdrew his hand, folding it with the other one on the table. "But I knew that much already."

"You know Emilia?"

He chuckled. "Of course. She works-" his smile grew a bit more forced- " _with_ me, of course. She informed me that you were quite shook upon discovering your father was a filthy liar."

"How do you-"

"So you agree that he is?"

Growing frustrated with the way the conversation was going, and feeling like the man was apparently always a step ahead of him, he felt himself become angry. "I don't know what you think you heard or-"

"You're the _Fallen Angel_."

Someone could've stabbed him right then and there, he wouldn't have felt it. He felt his entire body grow stiff, the blood in his veins feeling like it stopped flowing and had been replaced with a vast emptiness that seemed to grow inside of him.

Carefully, he pushed aside his fear and took a look around, trying to subtly make sure that no one had overheard their exchange, had listened to the rather loud statement.

"I already know it. Gosh, it is so easy to make you nervous." Obviously satisfied with himself though, Janus leant forward. "But I am here to make you an offer."

Still recovering from his shock, he just shook his head.

"I really want to be your friend, Virgil. So I advise you to at least listen to me."

By now he had already figured that there was no way in hell that he'd met this person before. He knew that his father would immediately call the police on that man if he ever dared to come close to him.

And still there was some doubt in his mind.

"I won't help you, I'm not a criminal anymore." And still, it felt like he was just saying it to make himself feel better, not really feeling like anything inside of him (or his morals, for that matter) had changed.

"I'm not one either." He took a look around the shop before delicately stirring his drink. "I got caught up in things that were bigger than me, just like you."

"You work with Emilia," Virgil stated. "She's involved with this blue drug."

"And that makes me a criminal?"

Was this guy for real? "Yeah, it does. Last time I got involved with other criminals, I got shot and had my secret exposed, so I won't-"

The man chuckled, his eyes taking a gleam that made the blood in his veins freeze.

"You think this wasn't set up?" Within seconds, his demeanour changed back, as if it had never been different in the first place. "You using your powers before he could finish the job had never been part of the plan."

What kind of plan would involve any of that? And why would-

"The raid on the warehouse, of course, wasn't planned. But the _Prince_ , or _Thomas_ -" he practically spat out the name, his face contorting with anger before quickly going back to a smirk- "had hired Emilia previously. Her aim is exceptional, **he just wanted to let you suffer**.

So she had went through with it in one go and had left the two of you to yourselves. Of course Thomas thought you'd be too weak by the time you were shot.

**He had planned to kill you, just like he killed Deceit.**"

No. No, no, no- this wasn't making sense, it didn't match up. It just simply couldn't-

Virgil felt his mind being overpowered with what Janus was telling him. Convincing him, drawing connections between things that had been pure coincidences.

He felt his thinking being corrupted, every clear thought being replaced by a cold, dreading fear in the pit of his stomach and a silent acceptance in his mind.

Emilia was a hitman trying to kill him.

Hired by Thomas himself.

Who only had been stopped because he had found out that the _Fallen Angel_ and Virgil were the same person, someone he held dear.

And out of nowhere, his fear turned into anger.

Anger about the fact that he had never wanted powers to begin with, that they had been placed on him so late without him ever wishing for them.

Anger at his parents for putting themselves over him- without realizing just how much he had been hurting.

And lastly, anger that his father even dared to pretend that he loved him still, when he was just glad that he could now keep Virgil under wraps and use his powers to his own advantage.

"You're a smart boy," Janus praised him. "Let him pay for what he put you through, you deserve it.

 **Your father has to pay**."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, please note that virgil is basically corrupted now since janus' powers are... much more about conviction rather than temporary control.  
> in this story, janus and remus are the same person. (if you can see where this is going, kudos to you).
> 
> kudos and comments are well- appreciated! i wish you a good day!


	7. i've been thinking too much

"It's great to have you here, Mr. Sanders," the interviewer informed him.

"Great to be invited."

The woman across him smiled, moving her hand from her knee and delicately brushing a hair out of her face. "It was time, after all, we interview many great people in our city."

She turned to the cameras. "And if you haven't seen it yet, last week we interviewed Amanda DeAndre and her struggles and advances in Computational Science and Engineering. Go to our website or our new YouTube channel to watch it- and don't forget to follow us on social media for more stories of amazing people.

But today we're here with Thomas Sanders." She waited for the applause in the studio to die down again. "Thomas, would you please tell us what brought you here."

They had scheduled this interview months ago, back when he had introduced another security gadget onto the market.

Everything in this was planned out, every question pre- answered and the themes he should pay attention to as well highlighted.

This wasn't an interview with Thomas Sanders, this was an interview with a business man that had to pretend to be a nice and open person, and he felt terrible for doing this. (But Logan would have his head if he didn't use any opportunity to promote them.)

"Well," he made sure to flash a charming smile into the audience. "After I graduated, I was already sure that I wanted to have something to do with technology, so I took as many classes in university as I could.

Of course, I couldn't have known back then that I would be known for security."

The people in the studio chuckled and he made sure to do the same.

"And you are _very_ dominant in the field," the interviewer agreed. "To be quite exact, you're on top. But what happens when you retire? My sources have told me that your son is currently doing an internship?"

He didn't know from which of his employees she knew this, neither could he care less if they had been perched outside the building to spy on the in- and outgoing personnel.

It was an easy question.

He nodded. "It's more of a work orientation, really. I'm slowly introducing him to the business."

"But what about school?"

For a millisecond, he felt himself freeze internally, caught red handed. But right then, Logan's voice cut through his thoughts, supplying him with a forgotten answer. "He is taking a year off." For dramatic effect, he looked down as if to think about an event. "A lot had been going on and we both agreed that it would be best for him to... Take a break and then come back in better spirits."

"Of course."

Thomas looked up to see the woman giving him a specific type of look that he knew to avoid on parent evenings; something that told him she would directly say yes if he were to ask her out for dinner. Or marriage.

-Not that he thought that any of them actually wanted _him_. He was sure that it was mainly based on the fact that most of them were single, nearing their forties or fifties and he seemed like a nice dad who just happened to have a lot of money.

But to cut the poor woman some slack, she immediately snapped out of it, focusing on her job again.

"Thomas, what everyone in here is just _dying_ to know: is there currently a lady in your favour? Or even-" she looked at the audience in a scandalous fashion- "a Prince Charming?"

This was going to be a long evening.

* * *

Virgil felt Patton's worried gaze following him through the office for the remainder of the day.

He would be sitting at his desk, typing emails asking for confirmations and suddenly feel a shiver down his back, the hairs on his neck standing upright.

Or he would deliver something to another floor and feel as if someone were following him.

-And lastly, the more obvious method of simply coming over for an unusual amount of chats.

Patton was working with Thomas, so he must know that something was going on. Or maybe Virgil was only now becoming aware of it, now that he knew to be careful around the adults in his life.

He hit send on the last email on his list.

"Virgil?" he turned around to Patton smiling at him. "Would you come to Thomas' office with me, please? There is something I need help with."

He panned across the room, the co-workers who caught his eyes quickly averting their curious glances.

"Sure."

Maybe he hadn't been careful enough, and they had noticed the shift in his behaviour- which was stupid since there wasn't any because he was the same Virgil he'd been before, but then again-

" _Shit_ ," he cursed.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings, promptly running into a desk that _definitely wasn't placed there usually._ Just his luck.

He waved off Patton's concern and continued walking, sure that this was the exact opposite of normal.

No wonder they thought that something was up with him.

His mind was racing back and forth, arguing whether he had been obvious when realizing the truth they had carefully hidden from him.

It was like this time they were the villains, but he was just... Virgil.

"Virgil," Patton repeated his name again, pulling him back to the present.

They had reached the office, his godfather leaning against the desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

(Had he always looked so tired?)

"Virgil," he restarted his sentence carefully, giving him a concerned look, "is there something going on? I know what Logan said must've hurt you- but is there something else you're not telling us?"

For a split second, he felt compelled to answer truthfully.

_Yes! Actually, I've found out that you're a bunch of liars who just want to keep me and my powers in check- oh, and did I mention that dad killed a guy who wasn't even that bad?_

_But I'm sure you knew that already, you probably helped him._

_Also, I'm sort of working for another criminal now, but I'm sure most child- traffickers don't wear bowler hats, so don't worry._

"Not really."

Predictably, that wasn't the right answer. He was given a doubtful look and a raised eyebrow- as if he had been caught red handed eating a cookie after his bedtime.

"I'm... Just worried, okay?"

**_Just play into his hands, make him believe what he wants to hear. You know the answer, you're a smart boy._ **

"You guys don't trust me and I... Can't shake that maybe you're keeping secrets from me."

In an instant, Patton's expression softened; his shoulders immediately losing tension.

If they believed that he was just his usual worried self, they surely wouldn't take measures to hurt him. They simply had to believe that he was still as oblivious as before Janus had told him the truth.

_**Idiots.** _

"Oh, my sweet dark child," the adult cooed as he shushed Virgil into an embrace. "I'm sorry you have to worry about this- but I promise we're not keeping anything from you."

"And do you trust me?"

He didn't miss the slight hesitation in the answer, or the short intake of breath.

"We trust you with our lives."

Liars.

* * *

The timer on the microwave rang from the kitchen, interrupting the drumming of Logan's pen on the paper.

He was alone at home, Patton having decided to take Virgil out for ice cream- at nearly ten in the evening, nonetheless. Something that would probably throw both their bodies' out of their rhythm, which again would make both of them more agitated and cause everyone to-

Another ring from the kitchen.

This time however, he got up from his desk and manoeuvred himself through the dark house.

Had his husband been home on time, they could be sitting at the dinner table right now; having eaten their dinner; Logan himself pouring over his current worries while Patton was reading a book.

Their arrangement was flawless.

They had routines. Emergency plans. _Plans in general._

Virgil's revelation had completely thrown them off- but so far it had been nothing major.

What Logan had failed to see however- and was very adamant to admit to- had been the amount of minor things piling up which were now slowly creating a very major problem.

-not that he hadn't expected changes.

They had prepared for a collaboration between the _Prince_ and the _Fallen Angel,_ had brainstormed for potential media lies to convince the public of a legitimate reason for them working together.

And of course they had planned on giving him a chance to study Virgil's powers closely - mainly for his own safety.

A chance that he hadn't gotten so far, even after the weeks of recovery from the bullet wound had been over.

Frowning, he checked if his lasagne was still frozen.

Something must have happened in between the recovery and starting to work again; something that had led the teenager to withdraw himself from them again.

_There was something that he was not telling them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i update regularly! sometimes twice a week!  
> also me: *doesn't upload for nearly a month*
> 
> there's been a lot of change, but i will try to flee reality again so i'll write.  
> furthermore, i am evil and there is one sentence that foreshadows something bad. can you find it?
> 
> send hate on my tumblr!


	8. i'm insignificant

**1998, ???**

With a shiver, Thomas looked up at the autumn sky.

The evenings were becoming colder now, and the sun was starting to set earlier. The sky was cloudy and only very few birds were left around to cross it.

They would soon have to find another way to practise his abilities.

For the past months, Logan had insisted that the only way to ensure his safety when he was inevitably taking on bigger responsibilities, was to train- _hard._

Which was why they found themselves in a clearing outside of town, on a Saturday evening.

His two best friends (whom he secretly suspected to have a crush on each other were too stubborn to admit) were leaning against a tree, a few metres away from him.

Logan, who had always been the most focused and logical of them, was watching him with interest, a pen quickly moving across the paper to make sure to document anything that might be useful.

Patton on the other hand had switched from watching Thomas and doing homework to subtly (and miserably failing at subtlety) looking at Logan.

They both were in on his secret, even going as far as planning their futures with it as well.

Research for powers was barely there, being outlawed for decades and all that. Someone who had known an individual with powers from the start and had practical knowledge was exactly what was needed in the field.

Equally smart, but also wanting to help out his family, Patton was planning on pursuing medicine to treat people (and save Thomas, if he wasn't careful enough).

But he just didn't know it yet.

With his parents telling him to do what felt right, his friends already sure what they were going to do, and him having powers; the only thing that had ever stood out to him had been to use his powers to keep people save in his own way. So maybe being a police officer on the side would keep him free from suspicion.

Becoming a doctor had been out of his mind for years now. He lacked the interest in the field and couldn't imagine making a mistake that could inevitably change someone's life for worse. His healing powers wouldn't be of any help, they had learnt that much. Too excessive use of that would turn against him- and no one would benefit from that.

So for now, all he could do was try to balance school, football and his powers.

-And his girlfriend.

Admittedly, he was in no position to make fun of his two friends for being obliviously in love with each other, when he couldn't even find a way to tell them that he had been seeing a girl for roughly two months now.

It wasn't like anyone would judge him for having someone. But he had to stay focused, had to make sure to keep people out of the danger he was planning on throwing himself into.

And she felt different.

She wasn't his friends, she didn't know about his powers; neither was she like the girls that only cared about him for playing football- she liked him, somehow. There was an understanding for things he couldn't tell her about, that he sometimes just couldn't find the time to fit her in.

So he could only settle on enjoying whatever they had - for however long it would last.

Another shiver went through his body and he started walking over to the other two.

"Enough for today," he called as he was a metre away, "I'm starting to get really hungry."

Logan nodded, not bothering to hide his disappointment in their short meeting. He didn't mention it though, probably remembering the last time he had done that and tried getting them to stay longer. Patton had started to become upset with him and very grumpy- something neither of them had any desire to repeat.

"Just give me a second, I need to finish up on the paragraph."

.

Soft music was playing on the radio on their way back.

With Patton fussing about Logan's hair in the backseat and insisting on fixing it in a fit of giggles, Thomas saw how they hadn't changed very much in the past few years.

They'd become more confident, more sure of themselves and their future; that was for sure. But hearing Patton's squeaks of delight, Logan's complaining and not wanting to change anything about their dynamic, he felt dread pooling in his stomach.

It was the same dread that had been plaguing him for a while now.

Whereas there was a general excitement coming from everyone he knew about being in their last year of high school, soon going to college, prom and everything, he just felt cold.

He had never been anyone outside of his powers. He wasn't someone to go to for advice, or someone to help with a big problem. All he had ever been defined with had been being the quiet kid, later just someone who was on the football team.

Even when he was planning on becoming a superhero of sorts, he knew that he was not going to be anyone outside of that. He'd be the hero as long as he had an alias - but Thomas Sanders?

Who would even bother to learn that name.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmh?"

His friend was leaning forward, clutching onto the driver's seat. "You've been lost in thought the entire day, is something going on?"

Damn it, he was apparently worse at hiding his worries than he'd thought - and now Patton was worried about him. "I'm just... Thinking about graduation again, I can't believe we're nearly there."

"Technically, we have multiple months left, not to mention that we still have all our exams coming up and that there is still a chance for failure."

"Logan!"

He heard a whacking sound and a yelp, knowing that the notebook in Patton's lap had just been used for mild violence.

"I'm just stating that there is a possibility for-"

"Not the moment for it!"

Thomas focused his mind solely on the road, their bickering fading into background noise. The song changed and he became aware of the moment becoming a memory, already missing it as it was happening, even though it was nothing out of the ordinary for them.

"Are you coming to the cinema tonight?" Patton asked him and pulled him back, right as they were passing the first houses.

He glanced at him through the rear view, making eye contact. "Tonight?" he shook his head. "The game is tomorrow, I can't."

Not to mention the last time he had dragged him along in the last second, managing to place Thomas right between them. It had probably been a new record in the history of third- wheeling - and they weren't even dating (yet).

Logan checked his watch before frowning. "I think I also need to cancel, my notes need some-"

"NO!" Patton and Thomas yelled simultaneously.

"I mean," he tried to save them from embarrassment, "I think you two need a break, we've all been so occupied with everything. You should go."

The other huffed, "I don't quite understand as to why this would solely apply to me and-" he seemed to have a moment of realization, his expression changing from stubborn to accepting. "Now that you mention it, I think it would be a good idea."

The two of them seriously needed to get a move on, or he would just tell them himself.

Glancing outside the window, he noticed that the sun was already beginning to disappear on the horizon.

Another impractical thing with autumn; he couldn't use a free evening to take Sarah out on a date.

He didn't want to endanger her by dragging her to a park in the dark, neither did he want them to spend too much time in his car, sure that it would become awkward. His house was out of the question from the beginning.

So far, she had accepted not going to public places with him as long as they could avoid it, but now she would surely push it and he wasn't sure how to avoid that conversation.

Faster than he would have liked, they arrived in his driveway, the car coming to a halt with a slight wobble.

"Are you coming inside for a bit before you leave?"

"Sorry, I need to help my dad a bit before tonight. And Logan agreed to help me."

"I did no such-"

"Yes, you did," Patton interrupted him sternly. "You promised last nigh--iiice meeting. I mean meeting. The last time we met- during lunch. Not night." His face was becoming a dark shade of red, ears rising.

Thomas chose to ignore the weird phrasing and sighed. "See you two at the game."

.

Ten minutes later, the both had left and he had changed his clothes and prepared himself something to eat.

His mother had put some leftovers in the fridge, a note attached to inform that his parents were going out for dinner and were going to be home late.

_Love you! ;)_

He stared at the smiley face, wondering whether she always actually meant it when she drew it.

Pushing these thoughts aside, he realized in dismay that the risotto was still cold. As if the microwave had ignored its very purpose, it had turned the outside parts flaming hot, while the inside could probably be used to treat a burn.

He thought about just eating it the way it was, but then put it back into the microwave.

"Did you take my dress shirt?"

Thomas turned to his brother, who had just entered the room. He looked as if in a rush, his cheeks slightly red but his clothes seeming more formal than usual.

"No. But I think I ironed it yesterday, maybe it's in the guest room."

He rolled his eyes. "If you do a task, why don't you do it correctly?" he asked in annoyance because they'd had this argument multiple times already.

"Next time I won't do it at all."

"Oh, **but you love doing it**."

Something deep inside of him pulled him to obey, but he knew how to resist, his mind acting against the order without too much of a struggle. The other's powers didn't work unless there was a strong emotional conflict, or some sort of deep desire or desperation prevalent.

"Janus!"

His brother shook his head, smiling gleefully. "I'll find a way. But if my shirt's not there, I'll tell mum you hid it."

"I'll tell her you used your powers on me."

"No you won't."

It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them. They could banter and bicker, but they wouldn't do anything to seriously mess with each other to the extend they'd have to tell their parents.

There had been one incident, back when they both had just developed their powers. Thomas had been angry with Janus for breaking his figure, so he had hit him over the head, momentarily forgetting just how much strength he had.

They never spoke about it again. When their mother had asked why Janus was bleeding, he told her he'd fallen.

He had never gotten back on him for it, even though his powers could surely cause more destruction if he really wanted to.

But Janus decided to put his efforts on music at an early age; spending his days practising the violin and the piano. In some way, his powers made it easier for him. He didn't need to have stage fright if he could just convince everyone present that he was the prodigy, the amazing thing they had been looking for.

And unless any of them knew of his powers, they were unlikely to catch up on it.

He had always been someone, someone _with_ his powers.

"What's wrong?"

Brown eyes similar to his own watched him carefully, looking him up and down in the calculating way that only his brother was able to do.

"Just the game tomorrow."

"You're the worst liar I know." But he decided to drop it either way. "A girl called earlier," Janus informed him. "She said her name was Sarah and that you wanted to help her with some homework."

Immediately, Thomas mood changed and he practically jumped towards the telephone. "When did she call?!"

Even though he hadn't seemed like it, the other clearly hadn't been done observing him. "Just homework, huh?"

"Shut up!"

He chuckled, gesturing to the general direction of the living room. "Right when I came back from rehearsal. She's the red head from English AP, right? Wears a lot of black?"

"I thought you wanted to go somewhere."

Truth was, he really didn't feel like discussing this right now. Janus wasn't the type to make fun of him for liking someone but he was... Well, his brother. And if he had to choose between loosing his powers and telling him about his love life...

"Damn! I'm staying with... Remy if mum and dad ask. And _don't_ go into my room."

"Just leave."

As he heard him rummage through the other room, he patiently continued to wait for his food, having figured that it was too late to call Sarah back. He knew that her dad would probably answer, and she hadn't even introduced them to each other.

His eyes panned over to the drawing that had been there for nearly ten years now, but their father insisted only their mother wanted still up there.

They had drawn it after they became aware of their powers.

It showed Thomas and Janus, their names written in a messy handwriting next to the individual stick figures with a cape, saving a blonde stick figure out of a burning airplane.

Back then, Janus had complained that this wasn't realistic at all - because Thomas didn't like airplanes, so there was no way that he would go to save someone from one.

Good riddance for their parents, who somehow managed to deal with the both of them.

He knew the story of their father coming in to see his son giggling- while flying up and down the ceiling in his room; or the story of their mother buying all the popsicles she could find in the supermarket one summer.

That day, he had sat under the covers with Janus.

It wasn't unheard of that parents of children with abilities gave them away because they were scared. Scared of their children.

But their parents had done no such thing.

And after all, they were still here, many years later.

"Your game is tomorrow, right?" Janus called from the doorway.

He shifted slightly to the right so that he could see him fiddling with the buttons of his sleeves- obviously having found his dress shirt.

"Will you come?"

"Of course," he smiled back at him. "I never miss your games. See you, loser." The door shut behind him with a loud bang that had the vase on the sideboard wobble.

The house fell silent again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're twins, who'd have known.   
> technically, remus and deceit are the same person, in the same way that thomas and roman are the same person. (it's almost as if i a had this planned since i started this story.)
> 
> let's say a lot of shit went down that i (probably) won't elaborate on in this story, but might turn into a one shot at some point. 
> 
> your comments keep me motivated!!! :)


	9. you'll begin to wish you were sleeping

**Present day**

_Project 116, [do not open without permission, private]_

_The appliance is not intended for anything other than its intended use._

_Usage against common people is not encouraged._

_WARNING: NO TESTING AGAINST INTENDED TARGET AS OF SEPTEMBER 17TH, 2019_

_\---- If gadget appears to be not working, DO NOT continue work, DISPOSE IMMEDIATELY._

_\---- In case of accidental activation, IMMEDIATELY SEEK MEDICAL ADVICE._

~~_Appliance doesn't work under temperatures below ten degrees._ ~~

It wasn't a good idea, and he knew it.

But there was nothing else that would satisfy his worrying mind; the thought, once it had settled in, not releasing its tight grip on his subconscious. What had started out as a simple idea not meant for further investigation had brought him here, digging out the files for the very weapon he had designed to use against the _Fallen Angel_.

His moral side was telling him to wait, to make sure that he wasn't just being overly paranoid.

-But the logical side of him knew that Virgil had indeed been acting different; that there was something unnatural about the way he kept up his personality, or the way he would sometimes seem to be fighting something in his thoughts before glazing over again.

Some times even, the teenager's voice had practically seemed to be distorted; the 's' drawn out, the pitch dropping a nearly unnoticeable amount.

It wasn't just him worrying, Logan also knew that.

Which was why he had found himself in the storage basement of their office building this early morning, exactly a week after noticing the odd behaviour without being able to come up with another likely explanation.

Browsing through the rows of shelves, he couldn't keep from questioning which one of them had decided a non-alphabetical sorting had been the best idea for weapons in development- sure that it had been Patton, most likely.

After another few rows, his fingers traced along the 116, immediately pausing.

Once he would open it, there was no way that he could go back.

His mind would continue to come up with worst case scenarios that could only be stopped with the weapon. He would spent his time observing his godson until he found out just what had been plaquing him. (And if the worst came to worst...he would be prepared).

He didn't want to hurt Virgil.

And even though he had memorized the file, just like he had done so with every other one, Logan found himself carefully reading it once, twice, three times until he was sure that there had not been anything that might have slipped his mind.

It wasn't meant to kill the subject; rather meant to simply stop the individual, in any case Virgil, from continuing their abilities by shocking them with electrical waves that would interfere with the neurons responsible for the distribution (and usage) of powers.

In other words, their plan had been to electroshock the _Fallen Angel_ and make him ordinary.

Thomas would have carried it with him, its design to look like a simple pen coming in handy, gotten close enough to the villain and just pressed it against him to do its work and then take him out.

Which technically made it more of a tool than a weapon, if he was being quite honest.

Logan shook his head, scoffing at the thought.

It was a pen that was meant to attack literal neurons that were only present in a very small percentage of people; if used by the wrong person for the wrong reasons it could wreak havoc, potentially insinuating a literal witch hunt. Making it look like an every day object might have been good for their own purpose- but if someone else also were to-

No.

There was no way it would ever find a use. They wouldn't use it on Virgil, because he was just being paranoid and overly observant; his thoughts creating patterns in non existent riddles.

After all, he had created it as a safety measure in case their facial recognition was a failure. -Which it had technically been since they had been forbidden from using it, but shortly after they had found out the villain's true identity, making it useless anyway.

He sighed.

Then he pocketed the object, the weight of it not nearly pulling him down as strong as it did on his conscience.

* * *

_He looked towards his father._

_There he was; the hero, in all his glory, standing amidst the smoke and rubble the explosion had caused. His posture was stiff, the mask unchanged but the knowledge that the only thing that was to see in his eyes was disbelief._

_Virgil turned to Janus._

He jerked awake, dizziness overcoming him moments after. His heart was racing, his forehead and back drenched in sweat as he could still practically breathe the burning rubble, hear the sirens in the distance, the faint taste of blood permanently burnt into his subconscious.

This dream hadn't been the first of its kind. They always followed the same pattern: Janus would order him to do something and he would obey, only being able to take over his body again after he had...

He was sure that Janus wanted him to hurt his father.

And no matter how many times he tried to coax him into believing something else, the sickly sweet conviction of his powers seeping into his own thoughts, he knew that the man was nothing but a liar.

Janus wanted some fucked up revenge for something he had probably caused himself.

Which was why they were so similar, wasn't it?

They had both screwed up something good and tried to blame it on someone else- when the only culprit they had to find could be seen in the mirror.

For both of them it was mind control, a bad placement in life, circumstances that were nothing but unfortunate; all together with Thomas Sanders being caught up somehow in the middle.

But currently, he was the one pulling strings. And he wouldn't stop until he got Virgil to do exactly what he wanted.

His mind control was strong- much stronger and more powerful than his own, he had to admit that to himself.

It wasn't just that he had more experience, it was also harder to fight since it seemed to work a bit different- but how different? He couldn't tell, only sickened by the extends of it.

Because it made him nothing but a puppet.

He would wake up with a mission in his head, and at some point he would watch himself doing it and realize that he actually didn't want it. But he was stuck- and even during the limited instances, like now, in which he would be aware of being controlled- there was no way for him to break free from it.

And if he was being honest, he was starting to think of giving up fighting.

_**They'd be better off without you**_ , the traitorous voice in his head kept muttering; mimicking things that had been going on in his head for years now, jabbing him and pushing him to desperation.

Some days he couldn't even distinguish between himself and it, wishing for nothing but for Janus to finally order him to just drop dead.

He was nothing.

Neither was he Virgil, nor was he the _Fallen Angel_ , and least of all was he Virgil Sanders.

Janus had made sure of that.

Using his own mind against him was... Sick in all senses of the word.

If it had been torture before to keep his double life a secret from his family, then this was his own personal purgatory; a hell made for him on earth, trapping him within the confinements of his own mind, with no one to break him free.

Now he was truly falling.

(And once again he was waiting for the concrete to embrace him.)

* * *

**???**

The man was pacing up and down, the heels of his shoes sounding loudly against the otherwise silent gathering of people.

It was a humble assembly; one woman and two men sitting at a table, the other still walking around in contemplation.

"I told you it wouldn't be that easy," the woman remarked.

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as the man immediately came to a halt, aprubtly turning to her with a truly murderous expression that contorted his face even more.

"Shut up," he hissed back, drawing out the 's'. "If I _might_ remind you, this is _Thomas_ little brat we're talking about. He happens to be even more aware of his own powers than _sssomeone_ in here thought."

Eyes locked on him, unimpressed, the woman chuckled. "He has wit. And him fighting your control is even more to your advantage when you twist it right enough. Convince him properly instead of blaming it on me."

As if to prove her point further, she got up and walked closer; suggestively leaning against the table in front of him. "Of course, my first idea still stands. He's a _child_ , let his father watch as he dies _painfully_."

He stared at her.

"Need I remind you of your place?"

She chuckled once more, her hand reaching out to cup his chin. "Need _I_ remind you who found him first? I had to pretend to like this old olive of a _man_ ," she said in disgust, "to convince him to go to the schoolboard. Had it not been for me, he would still be in that school. Had it not been for me, he would still be nothing more but a _weak_ , little-"

The men at the table flinched as she was violently pressed against the table, the man pinning her in place with one hand closed around her neck.

"You are still talking about my nephew. So I advise you to keep your language appropriate to it- unless you don't wish to continue your life anymore? I am ssssure we can arrange that." He smiled.

Shaking her head, she struggled against the grip; the hand she had previously used to hold on to his face now grasping at his collar, a desperate attempt at saving herself.

For a long moment he seemed to actually consider chocking her to death. His calculating eyes watching her struggle, there seemed to be no emotion in his entire body.

But then he let go, taking his hand back as if he had touched something dirty.

" _Don't_ forget your place, Emilia, I may have saved you from the judge, but I won't hesitate to make your life a living hell if you keep interfering. You're _indebted to me_."

His eyes lit up. "But don't worry, once my dear brother and his little friends are nothing but ashes, and Virgil is mine, I will reward you for your troubles. That was our deal, wasn't it?"

She nodded, gulping and refusing to make eye contact.

"Good," he praised, "now get the boy. I need him to kill his father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *literally running on unhealthy amounts of caffeine and energy* brain, why don't work?  
> apologies for the (second) delay, turns out i have terrible time management.   
> please grant me comments, for i am pretty bummed. 
> 
> love, the author who'd like to unalive.


	10. i know you're not a liar

He wasn't stupid.

After everything that had happened, of course he had made sure to pay more attention to his son. Which, naturally, had lead him to notice the absences, the nervous looks towards the clock, the way he somehow managed to switch between anxious to utterly _soulless_ within seconds.

Something was wrong. Very, _very_ wrong.

At first, it had been little things that had put Thomas slightly off.

Nothing that couldn't be scraped up to nearly dying a few weeks prior, like spending more time with them, or insisting on not using his powers. - He had figured that the teen was simply trying to figure out his position in life again.

But it had turned awfully coincidental when police officers started reporting crimes they weren't able to recall the next day.

(Which had been the same night that Virgil had come home with a limp, flinching at himself in the mirror.)

Things that had been... Things he shouldn't have ignored for the peace of his own mind.

There had been no explanation, however, so he had been able to scrape it up to his hero ego trying to draw connections.

An ex- villain suddenly acting suspicious again in time with things that seemed a lot like his old tricks? - Obvious. Next riddle.

-It had been a few weeks of these coincidences when he had finally realised it.

The picture of Nathalia Hofman, the exact woman that had shot Virgil, had been lying on his desk, along with the findings of the pathologist who had declared her dead five years ago.

A woman who had for no reason killed three random men with no other link to each other than having visited the same high school years ago.

Except that those men had all been involved in a particular incident revolving around his brother, who had never quite recovered from the day.

And now that he was watching his son in the doorway, the coffee already cooling in his hands, he could tell exactly what was wrong.

"You took a lot longer than usually," he remarked.

The teenager shrugged, walking towards him and placing the cup carefully between the papers on his desk. "Busy day, I don't think they were that dedicated to good customer service," he explained, his lips drawing into a thin line as he waited for him to reply.

"Ah."

"Yes."

Janus' powers fed off desire, managing to twist it into something he wanted.

And Virgil was a teenager, there was even more that he could feed on- especially if he didn't know how to fight it.

And him standing in front of him, apparently controlled, the chances that he was able to resist seemed very slim. Thomas had to play this safely, not knowing just how much he had been impacted, nor what Janus' end goal was.

He stood up, "I spoke with Logan earlier, he said that there's a chance he knows how your powers work- and their limits."

The teens eyes narrowed briefly, before twisting back into a bored expression. "Really? When did he have time to figure them out?"

"He compared some old notes." God, he prayed that Virgil was in there somewhere, being able to understand what he was about to do: "You know, a lot of mind powers tend to have less powers if you say they do."

"Sure."

* * *

He flinched as Janus slammed his hands on the table.

"How the _fuck_ was he able to tell that you're controlled?! He is more oblivious than a FBI officer and yet he is somehow able to figure out that you are _nothing but a fraud._ He is supposed too think I'm dead!"

He had been ranting for the past ten minutes now, ever since Virgil had come over after he had had dinner.

"Sir," Emilia interrupted his ranting, giving a curt nod towards where Virgil was sitting at the table, watching them with a blank expression.

Even though she had turned out to be as much of a bitch as he had thought her to be from the start, he had learnt to appreciate her a lot more than the boss.

She tended to watch herself around him, aware of him being the main reason they had even worked out like this so far and barely lost her temper.

Whereas Janus was just straight up insane.

Although he was trying so hard to seem like he was a calm and collected man, the moment something didn't work out the way he wanted it to, his facade melted right off- revealing the mad man he was underneath.

Had he not been the actual villain who had been able to get Virgil to kill his own father, he would laugh at his antics.

But unfortunately, he was very much trapped in his own mind, which kind of rendered his consciousness useless.

Janus stared at her for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and straightened up. His tailored suit was wrinkled by now from his movements, and yet he somehow managed to make it look like it had been his intention to wear it like that.

Thomas rarely wore suits like this.

His father tended to wear dress shirts at best, a tie when Logan convinced him to- and now he was starting to wonder if he'd ever be able to complain about having to iron a shirt.

If one of Janus' plans worked out, there would be no more _Prince_ , no _Thomas Sanders_ , no _Dad._

And if he couldn't find a way to break this weird spell that the villain had put on him, he wouldn't be able to avoid it.

"You're right," he finally announced, "we wouldn't want to _startle_ our little friend here. Or should I say business partner? Partner in crime? What would you prefer, Virge?"

He was leaning into his personal space, the smell of mint and coffee hitting his nostrils as if even they were out to attack him. Once again, he was somewhat thankful for being mind controlled and therefore not quite able to react.

"Your ignorant father suddenly being aware of the things around him makes things harder, of course," he continued, striding over to the window on the other side of the room, "but I am willing to take a risk. After all, I have waited more than two decades for my revenge."

"Someone is feeling salty."

It took him a second to recognize his own voice, realizing that for some reason he had just been able to speak his thoughts.

Janus turned around, smirking. "Quite the fighter, aren't you, boy?"

"Get. Lost." He tried to put as much into it as he could; his triumph over his voice however being short lived as he had to realize that he still couldn't move a muscle.

Whatever.

"You remind me so much of your father. So full of yourself. But guess what," he looked back out the window, "once this is over, you will come to me and _beg_ me to take you in, to train you. You're _nothing_ but a little kid who doesn't know anything about his powers- you will _thank me_ one day."

Virgil scoffed. " _Never_."

That was it, if he could distract him for long enough, make him lose his patience maybe that would break his control over him and he could-

Janus chuckled humourlessly, the noise vibrating in his bones like nails on a chalk board; his next word more terrible than anything the teenager had imagined previously.

"Tell me boy, have you ever killed someone?"

* * *

"Thomas, what is the meaning of this?" Logan demanded, adjusting his glasses to assert that he was very upset with the situation.

He had been in a very important meeting that could've given their company a deal with a very important international company; so being dragged out of it in the middle of it was a very bad thing for obvious reasons.

"Just. Sit."

Patton on the other hand watched him calmly, pointedly ignoring his husbands complaints; even though he himself had just been dragged out of a different meeting to discuss their future safety protocols in case of emergency.

"It's Virgil, isn't it?"

Thomas paused, "So you've noticed it too?"

He had to admit, even though he had been fairly certain about the severity of the situation, telling his best friends had been more of an impulse to make sure that he wouldn't run into danger without at least thinking about it first.

"Which means I was not simply being paranoid," Logan stated, not seeming the least bit relieved. "And there is indeed something going on."

Upon the blank expressions he was given, he shrugged. "You both do know I tend to overthink. So I deemed it unnecessary to worry the both of you."

"He's been off," Patton finally agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face, "I asked him how he was doing the other day and he made up some lie about being worried we don't trust him." His gaze landed on Thomas. "You know what's going on."

He nodded curtly, briefly glancing toward the office door to make sure that it was locked. Then, he looked back at Logan, speaking the words he had been repeating in his head since he had sat down Patton.

"Time for the truth."

Logan sputtered: "You cannot believe that-"

"What truth?"

"I think Janus is involved," he finally said, the words feeling like acid as they were leaving his mouth, feeling like they were seeping into the world; speaking them making them more powerful.

Okay, maybe that was being a bit dramatic.

But it was true; Janus being a relevant problem in the present made things hard- him having control over Virgil, however, made the man unpredictable.

Patton chuckled, trying hard to conceal his uneasiness. "That's not funny. There was a funeral, and I was there, the- the two of you were there." His voice started to waver, a clear sign that he was puzzling the pieces together in his head perfectly on his own, betrayal taking over.

He stood up, balancing on the table as he leant forward. "There was an entire news coverage on his death. I _comforted_ your _devastated_ mother!"

Neither of them reacted, prompting him to dig further: "Thomas Sanders, _tell me_ the two of you didn't do what I think you did."

"We faked his death."

"Logan!" Of course he had ripped off the plaster first, but stating it made it real; their promise from that night finally being broken.

"There is no easing him into it," the other man argued, "we should have told him years ago. Patton, I am sorry."

"So am I," he replied, his voice void of any emotion.

Then, he slowly started walking over to the door, checking his pants for his phone.

"Where are you going?"

If he decided to leave them now, then there was no way that they could ever make sure that Virgil would be fine- and everything would be Thomas' fault.

Because he couldn't tell people the truth, because he couldn't pay attention to his own son, because he couldn't save his brother in time.

It was his fault.

"Finding Virgil," Patton answered, "and making sure your _psychopathic, not dead brother_ doesn't do anything to him, because if he does, I will _never_ forgive either of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm, chile, anyways.  
> got that done! about two chapters to go, i think. 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated and motivate me :)


	11. used to play pretend

The great perhaps, that was what his mother had always referred to whenever she spoke about death.

And maybe it was the true question that was going through his mind right now, but all he could place in this moment was that there was no perhaps, it was just _wrong._

_Sorry, sorry, I'm so so sorry,_ he wanted to repeat and repeat until his lungs would give out, until he could convince himself that someone forgave him. But he only managed to repeat it in his mind, no sound leaving his mouth.

The woman's eyes never left his face, the expression of fear not faltering for a second.

Virgil wanted to scream; he wanted to break down and cry and hope that he would wake up in his bed again, a few months prior; back when his world had been more okay than it would ever be again now- when the great perhaps was a bitter memory.

"G-get away from her!"

He turned to the side to look at the woman's husband; equally drenched in blood and yet still struggling to stay alive. He had put up a fight the moment the teenager had stroke, until he had managed to-

Janus had given him an address.

There wasn't supposed to be anyone there, Emilia had said. But even on the otherwise silent car ride to the building, he had known that she was lying; by this point he was only praying that it would be quick. And that he would be next.

Both were journalists, having become popular back when _Deceit_ was making his first headlines, apparently managing to piss the man off enough to be taken revenge on decades later.

And it had been easy to get into their flat, when all he had to do was smile and introduce himself, promising shady information about his father's business.

There had absolutely been no reason for them to check whether he had weapons.

His gaze wandered back to the woman, his mind unwantedly drawing connections between her and his mother. It was probably the reason he had remembered François Rabelais and his stupid musings on the afterlife that his mother had used to make sure he didn't fear the unknown.

And the woman couldn't be older than her, and his mind occupied itself with pondering whether she had children and if she had also told them about the great perhaps.

It was to no use, the chocking of the husband made the teenager's body turn into motion again; standing up and stepping over the woman's body.

Janus had made him a murderer.

"I want the number to TCA broadcasting," his voice said, "tell them it's urgent." He was facing the city below him now, the height and the great perhaps calling out to him. "I have an announcement to make."

* * *

Thomas cleared his throat, "Patton, I-"

"Don't." The man at the steering wheel didn't even spare him a glance as he looked into the rear view mirror as he changed the lane.

Within minutes, he had managed to cancel all appointments and informed all employees of their absence. It had taken him another few to get the other two into his car, driving into some directions neither Thomas nor Logan dared to even ask him about. Whether he knew where they were going was unimportant, but doing nothing would be worse.

Thomas heard the methodical clicking of keys behind him and knew without looking that Logan was probably trying to locate Virgil's phone, or doing something that would get them somewhere.

"Dinner, last night," Patton bit out between his teeth, his eyes now on him. "You knew it and yet you didn't wonder why he wasn't there this morning."

"I hoped-"

" _This is not a place for hope_." He took a few seconds to compose himself again somewhat, taking a deep breath at his unusual anger. "I don't care for you for once, Thomas, I don't care for what you thought. We're all at fault for letting him fall aside that far, but you have-"

"You don't know the entire story!" Thomas intervened, feeling his friend's words (albeit true) to be an attack on his person.

He knew that it had been stupid of him to chalk everything up to coincidence, to hope that Virgil would be fine without any interference from them. And now, sitting in the car, he knew that his reluctance to action had made things even worse.

"I don't think you understand me, _I don't care._ "

Silence spread again; the only noise coming from the mulled sounds of the city streets and the soft, but steady, clicking whenever Patton made a turn.

Then finally, he found his voice again: "We knew that Janus was hurting when we kept excluding him, and neither of you wanted to listen to me."

They were all aware that the situation was no longer about Virgil, nor Janus, but all of them and all their past actions that had led to these very moments. And Thomas didn't know how to put the reason for all his doing into words other than: "We watched him turn into this and we did nothing."

Logan shifted in the backseat. "We didn't know better."

"And he said that he was okay."

Thomas eyed Patton; making note of the way he was clearly trying to stay focused, not daring to go beyond to the point he would break down. He was their anchor, and he hadn't even known the waters they were threading until an hour ago.

"Sarah kept saying that too," he stated. And finally, the words found his mind again, "It's like every time someone tells me that they're okay and I decide to let them be, they turn out worse. First I fail Janus, then Sarah, and now-"

"Shut up," the man at the steering wheel mumbled. "Don't say it. He is fine, he is safe and we will find him in one piece and _alright_ ," his words came out chocked now, but he still carried on, "Virgil never had anything to do with any of this."

"And see where that got us." Were he at home, twenty years younger again, he would pour himself a glass of whisky, before deciding to go for the entire bottle. It had been the first thing he had done when he had seen the headline of his brother on the news, after all. It had been his final push to pursue his powers to help people, when they had been the very thing that had driven Janus away.

"Janus made his own decisions," Logan chimed in again, his tone more careful and controlled than the others'.

The navigation map of the car turned on, a course already set for Patton to follow; undoubtedly his husband having figured where the teenager had last been.

"I would like to admit something before it gets to it." He steadied his posture, snapping the laptop shut, "During these past months when we had not yet known that Virgil is the _Fallen Angel_ , I have taken it upon myself to create a weapon. Nothing that kills." He carefully pulled a pen out of his suit's front pocket, delicately weighing it in his hands. "It is designed specifically against Virgil. Should the...situation arrive in which we can't get through to him, this will cut his powers short."

_In case we can't get through to him._

It didn't surprise Thomas that Logan had been working on a Plan B behind their backs, in case their facial recognition wouldn't work. But the thought of using something against his own son, no matter how desperate the situation and how harmless the weapon, he couldn't stomach it.

Using the weapon, or at least the potentiality of using it, made it clear that there was a chance they'd have to kill Janus- and there was no telling in whether his previous work of powers would simply be outdone.

It had been the main fear of Thomas for many years now, in late nights when his mind wouldn't give him the chance to thin about something else; the fear of his brother coming back to take revenge on him. And him not being able to be the hero he so desperately tried to be.

Virgil had never known about his uncle. He had never known about his father's twin, or the fact that they shared similar powers that both withheld equal amounts of potential and the prospective of destruction.

He wasn't sure what he would have done had he known about his son's abilities earlier. Though Janus hadn't been the boy Thomas had grown up with anymore, he still served as a reminder for his failing; and every time he looked at his son and his abilities, it wasn't only his and Sarah's features that he recognised.

But had he given Virgil the choice to form his own perspective, had given him the chance to know the truth, maybe he would've been able to defend himself better.

"We outdid him once," Patton said as he looked at Thomas in concern. He wasn't angry anymore, he was scared just as much as Thomas himself was.

"Which serves us a chance to do it again."

He nodded.

He would never be able to forgive himself when Virgil would get hurt because of him, ever again.

* * *

The static of the news report faded, a dimly lit room coming into view. In front of the camera was a man, his face covered by a white mask that still let brown hair show from its edges. He was dressed in a black hoodie, nothing that gave away any more to his person.

_"Fellow citizens,"_ the man began to speak, _"I have an announcement to make."_

It had happened within minutes; the news anchor's expressions had turned into those of pure horror, immediately announcing an important live call that was going to play.

Most people watching had assumed a shooting, maybe an earthquake; they had called on their relatives, had checked whether there was anything written in the tabloids on the internet yet.

Nobody had expected a man with a mask, a mask that was covered with blood smears.

_"As I am ssssure, you will have all noticed the absence of the Fallen Angel in these past few weeks. And I can guarantee that he is alright, wouldn't you, Miss?"_

He leant forward to adjust the camera; now facing more of the room and revealing the body of a woman. Blood was pooling around her, her eyes faded and fixed on nothing in particular. A man was sitting beside her, pressing his hands onto a wound on his stomach.

 _"But I think you need some proof I am alright,"_ the masked man's voice announced off-camera. _"Jacob, please grab the knife next to you and put it in your leg."_

At this, most people turned away from the sight, the wince and pained noises from Jacob still playing loud enough for everyone to imagine what had taken place.

 _"Just a taste of what I am capable of, in case my conditions won't be met."_ The camera was adjusted once again, focusing on the man, the _Fallen Angel_ , again.

_"There are people I instilled to do what I want them to, in various locations throughout the city, so don't even try to trick me. I want the Prince, at the top of the Infernale Tower at midnight."_

People held their breaths as a shaking hand was slowly raised to the mask. _"I am the Fallen Angel,"_ the mask moved upwards, slowly revealing more of the man underneath.

_"And my name is Virgil Sanders."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHY i don't listen to classical music, it makes me think of murder.   
> i am SO sorry. my poor boy. i already contained myself from making it more gruesome.   
> in other words, it gets worse from here, but i don't quite know in what way it will turn out alright, yet. 
> 
> two more chapters to go! comments and kudos motivate me :)


	12. turn back time

**Sanders Office**

"Holy shit-" Talyn said as they spat out their coffee. They had been forced to stay at the office longer, their bosses having ditched multiple meetings on short notice, _all three of them._ Which meant there had been some big emergency, so everyone had known not to question it. And as head of the department, Talyn had prepared themselves for a night filled with too much caffeine just to make sure that the business wouldn't be affected.

But this was nowhere near to what they had expected.

Had the _Fallen Angel_ always been somewhat off for being an adult? Yes. Did Virgil have the tendency to disappear at random, causing Patton to panic because he lost him in a five metre radius? _Yes._

But even though it had taken Talyn less than five seconds to figure out that Thomas and the _Prince_ were the same person, the possibility of _his son_ leading a double life had never even crossed their mind. Of course it didn't, this was stuff that didn't happen - _usually._

Holy shit, indeed.

"Jeremy?" they waited until their co-worker, who was looking just as dumbstruck as Talyn felt, turned to them. "Can you cover for me? There's been an emergency."

Not waiting for an answer, they practically sprinted to the parking lot, hoping that they would be there on time.

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he came to consciousness again was that he stood on a rooftop, facing the thousands of lights made up by the nightlife of the city's inhabitants. From what had taken place before his memory cut off, he concluded that this must be the _Infernale Tower._

Second was the sensation of small droplets prodding on his face, washing him gently. Washing away the blood- or at least that was what he tried to tell himself as the weight of the situation set in; him on top of a rooftop, the blood of the two people he had killed with his own hands long dried and absorbed on his skin.

It was nothing like the shower he had taken after the shooting at the town hall. There was no auto-pilot as a traumatic response, there was no water hot enough to feel like it was peeling off his skin.

And the last thing he became aware of was Janus, standing right next to him, talking to him.

"You did so well, my boy," he praised, smirking. The rest was quickly becoming blurry again, the sound of the rain drumming in his ears, making him unable to focus on the words that sounded more and more like gibberish.

Virgil knew that his mind was becoming numb, pushing down the reality of what had happened. And he knew that he shouldn't allow it to, knowing that repressing things that clearly needed to be dealt with should not be pushed aside.

But the sounds of the woman's cries were losing his empathy for her, they were becoming factual information rather than something he should feel a certain way about. The seemingly never-ending nightmare was becoming a bad movie in his mind.

He had killed someone.

The knowledge sat deep in his gut; his mind telling him that he should probably feel some kind of way about it but his body betraying everything that he might've been able to feel. Had it not been for Janus' mind control, he probably would've thrown up.

There were going to be consequences. He had no doubt in his mind that his chances to resist Janus' plans were slim, the foreboding feeling of knowing what was going to happen sickening him even more.

And once everything was over? When he would look into his father's dead eyes?

He didn't know the extends of trauma, never having bothered to pick up the brochures at the countless therapist offices his father had sent him to. And yet he knew that there needed to be a certain point he would not come back from.

"Don't do this," he whispered, to his own surprise.

If Janus hadn't expected him to speak up, he didn't show it, simply shaking his head. "You will thank me. And even if you won't do it now, I will teach you to- or elssse." The threat hang loosely in the air between them, Virgil not even able to bring himself to care about it. Just a few months ago, an _actual villain_ speaking like this to him might have provoked some sort of fearful reaction- now he was just slowly sinking into indifference.

It didn't matter.

Would a judge even give him the benefit of the doubt, after everything he had done? The public had never completely stopped prodding at him after what had happened at the town hall.

But then again, would it matter, truly? If Janus had had his wicked way with him, there would be nothing for the teen to come back to, there would be no place for him in the world other than the one the man had decided for him.

"We are going to achieve so much together, don't forget that, Virgil." With a last glance, the man turned on his heal to go back to the rooftop's entrance, leaving him on his own.

He sighed.

* * *

"No, I am telling you," they muttered in frustration.

"Talyn, be realistic, we're talking _thousands_ of people on live," Joan's voice came from the other end of the line, "and that's not even accounting for the saves, the shares, the-"

"Shut up."

They were grinding their teeth in worry, doing their best to continue focusing on the road.

Doing something as big as this would take planning, time, and most importantly an idea how to even go about it- they had neither. And with Joan's blatant pessimism, that was not going to change soon.

"We need to help them."

An exasperated sigh came from the other side. "And what do you want me to do? Just hit up every person with powers we know of and be like 'hey, kind of the situation here, it would be pretty great if you could help us out'?" A beat of silence. "You're fucking crazy, that's what you are. Talyn, this- I mean, _how_?"

"I don't know, okay?! Just help me figure it out- he's a kid."

"Oh come on, he has a clearly incapable- you know what, I don't have arguments. You said midnight, Virgil said midnight," they could make out the sounds of a keyboard clicking in the background before Joan spoke up again, "I might have an idea, but you need to give me time. Are you on your way to the tower?"

Some idiot behind them decided to take this moment to honk at them, the driver getting a middle finger in response. Talyn was tired, running on unhealthy amounts of coffee and was currently trying to fix yet another hero's mess. There was no time for cutesy.

"I'm about thirty minutes away. What idea do you have?"

"It's really nothing but that at the moment but I think we could do something when we-"

They made a sharp a sharp turn and gripped the steering wheel tighter as police sirens flashed behind them. "Shit, I'll call you."

* * *

It should have been alerting; to feel the cold spread through his fingers, the rain sticking to his clothes on his back, the metallic taste in his mouth. The feeling was returning to his body but there was no settling in, no connection between his thoughts and his physical being.

He wasn't exactly sure how many hours had passed between his announcement and the final realisation that none of his actions mattered at this point.

Janus had come back with an umbrella; his cool and calm barely disturbed, though his shoulders were tense and his back was stiff, betraying the collected manner he tried to display to the outside. He was sitting on the ledge of the building, sometimes sneaking glances at Virgil's form.

He must look absolutely deranged. Drenched to the bone, the rain not having given in the slightest, standing motionless in wait for his next command. What the man found appealing in literal human-sized puppets, he couldn't tell.

There were only a number of ways this could turn out, none of them ending good- he had been able to figure out that much. Scenarios one and two included his father dying, two and three included Janus dying. Four had all of them dead.

Virgil's knowledge of abilities had barely grown in the time he had spent in honesty with his family, so he had no idea to what extend Janus' final remains of control over him would go. Maybe he would lose everything once he was dead, or maybe it would take away the only opportunity for Virgil to ever break free.

A sense of calm had washed over him the moment he had realised that everything that would happen from now on was beyond his own control. And who knows for how long it had been like that? For how long Janus had planned this, for how long he had been part of his plan.

The ideal scenario would be his father finding a way to outsmart the villain, just like the internet articles that had never believed in _Deceit's_ death had speculated. Not giving Virgil any chance to help the villain in any way.

But this scenario also brought back the first problems of the worst case. What if he would never be able to break free from Janus' control? Would his father be able to sacrifice him for the greater good, to ensure that so many more people were safe?

 _Yes_ , he knew, deep down. Thomas might be his father first- but if he was a lost case, there was nothing even he could do.

"My name is Virgil Sanders," he muttered, no force having to be fought against in his mind. "My name is Virgil Sanders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i not know how to spell talyn's name? definite yes. also, singular plural is a bitch to write as a non- native speaker; i know it's grammatically correct, but it fucks with my head nonetheless.   
> anyway, my apologies for the delay, i was sad. 
> 
> comments and kudos absolutely make my day :)


	13. your soul knows good and evil

_D-_

Janus looked down at the paper on his desk, taunting him, the letters becoming blurry the more he stared at the words he had written. It had been their task to write about a childhood memory, or hero, or their best friend. And he had written about his brother; how they had had been inseparable from the start and what they had made of the future.

-But he had to cut the essay shorter because Thomas was having problems getting everything done. So sure, he had offered to help, had offered to do some homework for him and lie to their parents from time to time. They were siblings, you do those things for each other. 

And he had to cut the essay shorter because his mother had gotten upset with him the day before, because why was he not socializing like his brother? She was worried.

His mind had been everywhere else but the assignment. So he had cut it short, avoiding the tears that were welling up. It was hard to write about a happy childhood memory when it turned bitter the more you thought about it, the harder you tried to put it into words.

They _had_ been inseparable- until Thomas had met Patton and Logan; and at some point Janus couldn't convince himself any longer that he was part of that group. They were Thomas' friends, even though they didn't have powers, and even though they would leave him when they found out, surely.

He'd thought it would be a short affair, practically waited for the day he could finally comfort his brother and tell him how they would always have each other.

But here he was, at sixteen.

They'd always have each other, just like Thomas showed up to his rehearsals. Which was never. And time after time, it became harder to stop looking at the audience- after all, Janus practically made a point of not missing a single game, surely, his brother would do the same...Right?

He gulped, fully aware that he had tried his hardest to push those thoughts down again. Thomas probably didn't come because he was busy with school. Or maybe it was because he thought he was cheating; maybe he thought that Janus actually didn't have any talent and was just-

"Shut up," he muttered to no one in particular. But it did little to help; his hands were already shaking and a sudden cold was slowly overtaking his body.

A feeling his brother was most likely not familiar with, a traitorous voice whispered in his mind. -Why would he? Thomas had everything: the accepting friends, good grades, a place in the football team- and now he even had the girl Janus liked.

The last part wasn't necessarily his fault though. It wasn't like they talked about stuff like this. To be fair, they would probably make it awkward if they tried. Their conversations revolved around casualties, stupid jokes and things that had connected them when they were younger.

Of course he failed the assignment.

_I always thought we would stick together, no matter what._

Who believed in stuff like this? No wonder his teacher had marked the paper the way she did- it was seeping with melancholia, sounding like it was stolen from some stupid nostalgic war-letter. It was definitely not what she had been expecting when she had given them the task. She had probably seen his name, read the first sentences, and immediately decided that he was going to fail.

Thomas would've written an amazing paper for sure; about his friends, about how Logan is so smart and how Patton was such a sweetheart and how they-

How they were his friends.

Janus scoffed, shaking his head. What he certainly wouldn't mention was how they had stolen him from his brother. How they had slowly dragged him away, excluded him methodically, left him on his own.

And he knew that it was hurt speaking right now; that what he was experiencing was just anger. Anger, funded in frustration.

He wasn't Thomas. And most of the time he was able to convince himself that that was fine, but there were times like now where he just wanted to know. Know what he had done wrong. Where he had failed _so badly_ that he didn't get to have the same things his brother _had_. 

He should've written the stupid paper on some scientist.

Maybe then he would now be sitting at his desk crying because he would never be one. It would be easier to know that no one would ever trust him, because someone would find out about his power and his career would be over. Everything would get questioned and turned around; was this really his thought? Was he smart or was he able to extend his mind control in written form?

It was just another thing Thomas had an advantage over. Who was afraid of someone who could heal people?

With his powers, he was practically superman. There was no one who could say he gained an advantage because of them, if anything he was using them for _good_. He could be a doctor, or a scientist, or... _Anything_.

With Janus, they had to fear him becoming evil.

-His parents certainly did, or they did when he was eight and overheard their mother crying that he might end up on the wrong path. She couldn't stomach the fact to see his baby hurting people, or being locked up somewhere. She couldn't stomach a monster.

And their father thought it too; Janus had figured that out when the adult had been a bit too happy that he had taken a liking to music. It was a fool proof plan, really: who was going to turn evil when they had music as a way to express themselves? And if it failed, at least they tried, right? The media wouldn't fall over them like vultures.

And sometimes, Thomas thought it too. He saw it in the way he would eye him warily after an outburst, how he would take jabs at the way he used his powers.

He despised him. Some wretched, angry part of him really did.

The part that wanted to just _give in_ and show everyone the thoughts and things he was holding back. Pretend the violent thoughts he had were voluntary. Show them the villain he could be if they wanted.

-After all, his brother would be the hero. And maybe this was how it was intended to be.

Neither of them had chosen their powers, their looks, or their characters. They couldn't just switch and even remotely gain what the other had.

No matter how much he wanted to, Janus couldn't change everything about himself and start over, god knows he had tried.

It wasn't _fair_ and it was never going to be.

He'd just have to suck it up and deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, exams and personal issues were adding up.   
> this chapter is in no way to excuse janus' behaviour but it's to show that him becoming evil was mainly just unfortunate events no one really meant. 
> 
> please leave comments, as they really motivate me to continue :(


	14. and i will never go home again

They arrived at the building just before midnight. The sky was hung with clouds, rain pouring down; as if nature itself was desperately holding its breath, awaiting what was to happen. It was cold, the kind of cold that was biting, that crept into your bones and made you ache and afraid.

If he could get anymore scared than he already was, that is.

"Thomas," Logan said, the name hanging in the air. There was slight concern behind it, barely masked by his lack of facial expression. His face was blank, carefully so, but Thomas had known him long enough to know that he must be feeling just as worried as he did.

The rain kept pounding on the car's roof, edging him on to get on with it and finish it.

Despite having been a hero for decades now, having faced gun men, bomb threats, shootings and the law itself- this might be the closest he had ever felt to his end.

There was a calm in knowing. In knowing that tonight might just be his last. And it was up to him whether or not it was Virgil's as well.

Patton swallowed, "Be careful, please."

He glanced at his friend, nodding slowly. "I'm going to make sure Virgil is fine."

Not that he was going to be fine- he didn't care; he had lived long enough, gotten through too many things for one person to handle, had somehow managed to have a decent life alongside his secret one. His son hadn't.

It had barely been three months since they had found out his secret. Half a year since he turned sixteen, blowing out the candles on his birthday cake with little to no joy. If Thomas didn't succeed, he wouldn't even have the chance to finish high school. He knew his brother too well, knew that if he didn't kill Virgil after getting what he wanted, he'd make him suffer.

"Logan, give me the pen." He paused. "Any last words?" he asked finally, the joke falling flat.

Years ago they had agreed to never have last words to each other unless they thought this might finally be the end. No matter how dire the situation, they didn't speak them; better known and never spoken than spoken too lightly and too soon. But tonight may be the time.

After getting no reply however, he gathered his courage and pushed the door open to get out. "See you on the other side."

The door fell shut, and with it the last sense of comfort he had. Within seconds, his clothes were clinging to him, the cold biting him so that he had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

Assessing the building he knew that Logan had been right; a crowd had gathered, undisturbed by the threats on top of the rooftop and the police holding them back. News stations were gathered around, countless reporters talking over one another into their microphones. Seven News, Crow News, some independent ones.

They all faded into background noise, Thomas' only focus on the doors. He pushed past the people, ignored the cameras on him and did what he always did when he had actually no idea what he was _supposed_ to be doing: He straightened up, eyes fixated on his target in a stern way, acting as if anyone who dared going against him would face the consequences.

And it did its job; people moved aside to let him pass, the policeman guarding the door hastily stepping aside as he saw just who was standing in front of him.

He knew the kind of picture he must be giving them right now: the father who was going to collect his son and do damage control. Or maybe he wouldn't be able to, not that the media cared any way. But he couldn't even bring himself to care about them when they weren't even able to distinguish where the story started and where they were now.

Chin even higher up, he took the stairs.

* * *

Janus was becoming agitated, hiding it poorly. A quarter to midnight and his father still hadn't shown up. And maybe he wasn't going to come at all, but Virgil knew that even if he had been tossed aside and declared a lost cause, he would still protect the city from them.

What didn't make sense was the _Why_ of the entire situation. The _Prince_ had defeated countless threats, had taken down many powerful people and condemned them to a life in misery, but none of them had come back. None of them had come for _Virgil_ , had known his name, found out about his identity.

Nobody took grudges out on a child; and he had to admit to himself that this was all that he was, a scared, useless child thrust into all of this.

This had taken planning, observation and time. The villain must've had years to prepare this, possibly even longer than Virgil had been alive for. So why pull him into this?

Emilia had come back half an hour before, telling the man about police forces arriving to keep the masses in check. Despite everything, people were just as curious as they could get.

And what a show it must be for them; the son of the city's greatest benefactor turning out to be a villain? Killing people live on camera? And then he apparently wants to see the _Prince,_ an obvious challenge to a fight.

Janus had done a great job of threading the strings in the background. As far as anyone knew, he was nothing but bones rotting somewhere in a coffin, where he should have been for nearly two decades now. But he was here, and maybe he had even installed the entire disaster in the warehouse, had calculated everything up until now. Whether it was insanity or good planning, Virgil didn't care anymore.

Every detail had been carefully constructed. He was a predator, just as the teen had thought him to be the first time he had met the man in the café.

When they managed to get out of this, or rather if, Virgil told himself he would make sure to apologise to his father.

He had realised that what had happened was nothing but unfortunate, and nothing that could be blamed on anyone in particular. His father had given his best and he might never be able to thank him for that, all depending on whether or not his plan would work out.

Thunder rumbled faintly, and this time it felt final.

* * *

"He's waiting for you."

Of course the woman that stood at the end of the hallway was no other than the one from the warehouse, the one that had brought all of these events in motion. And yet Thomas knew that he couldn't blame her. They all were just pieces in Janus' plan, and only he himself could know just how long he had conjured all of this up, how long he had been setting them up for.

He walked past her, ignoring the two men on the side watching his every move, and rested his hand on the door handle to the rooftop. He thought about giving her a warning; to run away from all of this as long as she still could, but thought better of it. She had still been a part, and there was no telling what would happen as soon as he left the hallway.

Finally pushing down the handle and stepping outside, a strong wind hit him right in the face. If it had been cold down in the street, this was worse. A storm must have been coming up as well, faint rumbling and lighting flashing across the sky.

Poetic, if it hadn't been his potential last night alive- and even then it had something strangely calming about it, to know that he would meet his end in a storm.

"Thomas!" A delighted voice greeted him, but unlike Logan's earlier, it sounded menacing.

He didn't want to look the man in his face, so he looked for his son instead: His frail figure was standing not too far from them, the rain had soaked through his clothes as well and he looked pale and absent. For just a small second, Thomas could see nothing but his son the day he had watched the moving van leave their driveway. It didn't make him hopeful, instead it filled him with dread.

For years he had told himself that the reason he had kept so much from him had been to protect Virgil and to keep him out of things. But maybe it had just been to keep up his own selfish agenda, to prove to himself that he could keep someone close to him safe.

He turned his attention to his brother. "I had hoped you'd moved on."

"What can I say," he shrugged, extending his arms in a wide gesture and dropping them to his sides again. "There are some wounds that don't heal."

"So you decide to drag my son into this?" Thomas felt so utterly _done_ with the situation, he might have started laughing at the mere hysterics of it all. His brother had been buried, his life had literally ended in every sense but the actual and yet he came back with his old face. He had been given a chance, and he had tossed it aside. "He's just a child."

Janus chuckled. "And so were we. But _look at us_ now- do you know how many times I imagined this scenario? How often I lay awake _waiting_ for-" he drew a shaky breath, shaking his head. "And you didn't even tell him about me. Bury me, won't you, and then pretend that I _never existed._ " He looked at Virgil, "Had you _told_ me, had you _reached out to me_ -"

"What do you want, Janus?"

He wouldn't give in to him, he had to remind himself. The man in front of him held barely any resemblance to the boy he had grown up with; there was no kindness hiding behind those eyes, no fear in his movements, no uncertainty and carefulness to his words. They weren't kids anymore.

"I want _revenge_. I was alone for _years_ after you told everyone that I had died. You _pushed me off_ \- my _own brother_ pushed me off the roof and you want to know what I _want_?!"

"I never meant to-"

"Don't you get it!? It doesn't _matter_ what you meant. I spent all those years imagining the countless ways I could make you and everyone else _ssssuffer_ for the things you did to me." He was growing frantic, his grasp on his collected behaviour slipping.

Thomas gulped, gripping the pen inside his pocket tighter. "What happened then was tragic and I'd give _anything_ to undo it, but everything else? Those things happened because of your _own_ actions, nobody made you do them."

Maybe he had been trying to fix Virgil with therapy instead of trying to talk to him because he couldn't face him. Just as he had danced around Janus' troubles, he hoped things would sort themselves out, himself completely at a loss what he should do.

"NO?!" He laughed, tears springing to his eyes. "You're right, you are _sssso ssso_ right. I chose my powers, I chose the distrust, I chose mum and dad loving you more and _most of all I_ ** _chose_** you leaving me!" Despite the tears, there was a fury written all over his face as he spat, "Fucking _bullshit_. You left me alone- and I'm going to show you how much it _hurts_."

Before he even had the chance to retort, Janus had turned. "Virgil? Be a darling and **kill him**."

* * *

As the conversation progressed, Virgil had slowly been able to piece together just what had led to all of this. And with a newfound shame, he had to admit to himself that he could understand. He knew what it felt like to be alone, and he had felt the same person responsible for all of this. But it didn't matter now, he had made his choice and it had to be the right one.

When Janus gave the command, he felt a familiar tug inside his mind and gave in without much fight. All he had to do now was play his cards carefully and get this over with. One wrong movement could ruin everything and the villain would get what he wanted.

He never thought that he would amount to anything, and now, as his feet were slowly dragging him towards his father, he made peace with that. The man looked as tired as he felt, the dark circles under his eyes and lighting making him seem older than he was. He didn't deserve this, and maybe, when Virgil did everything right, he would at least be proud of him.

The closer he got, the more he became aware of the mechanics Janus had insinuated. There was no one but them on the rooftop, nobody knew the man was even here. No backup, a gun in his coat at best. Despite his earlier emotional outbreak, he stepped aside to watch them with careful eyes, a self-assured smile spreading across his face.

And as he reached his father, he noticed that the adult had barely picked up a fighting stance. He just had to get a bit closer, then he could break out of the mind control and turn against Janus. In this scenario, he wouldn't have to fight, they might even have a shot at not hurting the villain. They could all go home and pretend that nothing had ever happened.

Perhaps it was too much wishful thinking, or it was just a sick twist that Janus chose to speak up again.

"It is funny that I never described the how and yet you started moving."

His mind skittered to a halt, every muscle in his body tensing up. He had called it, _one wrong movement_. He had been told how to kill the two reporters- he had been instructed hot to make that announcement over the livestream. How the _fuck_ had he been dumb enough too oversee this?!

"Now once and for all," he could practically hear the smile on the monster's face- " **fight him until death**."

This time, the command forced itself onto him; there was no chance to ponder the why and morals of it- the only thing he was truly aware of was his fear. Up until now, he had had a shot, he had a _small chance_ to not do things wrong for _once_ \- but now he truly was nothing but a puppet.

His eyes moved towards his father. He had adjusted his fighting stance, the man that had raised him replaced with the hero who had tried to get him behind bars just months ago. The look of concern was washed away, replaced with certainty and determination.

And it was funny almost, that neither of them was wearing their costume; they knew each other this time, the anonymity taken away. Stripped bare, they were just villain and hero.

For the first time in his life, Virgil felt afraid of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hurt my own feelings writing this. oof.  
> one more chapter to go, so please tell me how much you hate this


	15. and everyone's competing for a love they won't receive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A REWRITE!!! so there's new things!

_"Janus, please, let's talk about this."_

"...fight him until death."

_His brother frowned; blood was dripping from his nose, mixing with the rain on his chin as he wiped it away with his left hand, and looked down at it._

_"What is there to talk about?" His voice was hollow, broken. Whereas Thomas was completely fine, their fight had taken the last out of his brother- he hadn't even stood a chance against his powers. They had been fine to begin with, but gradually, there was only so much he could do to keep them at even ground._

_"Finish it, **hero** ," Janus practically spat._

Virgil's eyes became glassy, unfocused.

_"I really don't want to fight you," he tried again, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. And he was telling the truth, he didn't want to, and how much he wished he wouldn't have to._

_"Yeah?" Janus laughed sharply. "Didn't seem like it just now. Must be fun to punch the bad guy- I mean, can't you fucking see it?!" He gestured around and his eyes landed on Logan who was still slumped against the railing, unconscious. "This is it."_

Subconsciously, he shifted into a defensive stance.

_"It doesn't have to be."_

_They could still go home, could move on- they could heal from this. Maybe one day they would even be able to look back on tonight and see it as a new beginning. It wouldn't have to end now, and it certainly wouldn't have to end with them._

"Janus-" he searched his brother's face for _something_ \- "please."

The man ignored him, his eyes practically glued to Virgil as he was moving towards him.

_"Because we can just go back to normal." He looked back at him with a blank expression, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is what you wanted- this is everything you_ **_all_ ** _ever wanted, isn't it?"_

_Moving his hand to his bloody nose again, he chuckled and withdrew the crimson limp once more. "I'm the villain."_

"I always expected this to play out differently," Janus piped up, still watching them from the side lines. His self-assured grin had faded, had morphed into something less sinister but much more hollow. "It's... Fun to watch your son be the one to kill you," he said with a monotonous voice. "And when everything is done, and you are no more, I will take him with me."

He was barely listening, too focused on his son approaching him. For every step the boy took forward, he took one backward to gather them more time, more time for him to figure out a way to approach him in a way that would hurt him the least.

Inevitably, he would have to use Logan's invention against him. And then he would have to figure out a way to deal with Janus, whether it be peaceful or forcefully.

* * *

_Shit, shit shit shit shit SHIT._

The chorus of words kept repeating in the teenager's head again and again, his thoughts overlapping and switching between begging and screaming the only word he could come up with. This was _not_ what was supposed to happen, for fuck's sake! He was supposed to break free and go through with his plan, and then his father would be proud of him and everything would be-

His body was approaching; what had been the grand entrance for his plan was now turning against him. With every step he took toward his father, his throat was squeezing tighter. 

Just how had he thought the villain as an equal? Had he actually been stupid enough to believe that spending enough time with the man, reading articles, fighting against his control would give him an advantage? -It had been plain _stupid_ of him to believe that things would work out for him for once. That he could do it on his own.

...and now it was even too late to ask for help.

His father had pushed Janus off the rooftop nearly twenty years ago- and maybe it had actually been an accident. But it wasn't under the circumstances the _Prince_ had told the press about, and it was nothing like the lies he'd fed Virgil's grandparents.

Even after finding out that Virgil himself had practically been on the path of no return, he hadn't thought it necessary to bring up his brother or set things straight. He had kept the truth buried in favour of playing happy family.

Thomas wasn't any better than him.

A sharp pain reeled him back from his thoughts; his right hand hurt, having swung out to strike at his father's face who had managed to block it and then held onto it. For a second, the pain was everything he could concentrate on.

_As the hero held him up against the wall, hand pressing against his throat, he asked himself if that had been worth it. He could be sitting at home right now doing god-knows-what. -His brain wouldn't be spiralling into a cluster of warnings, his anxiety wouldn't be kicking in, there wouldn't be thoughts that he was going to DIE DIE DIE if he didn't manage to break free. He forced out a breathy chuckle._

_It sounded like he was being strangled. Which- actually quite fitting. "Anger issues much?"_

_It wasn't exactly his fault the situation had escalated like that. There had been shouting, and he had wanted to make sure that nobody was being murdered or something, and yeah, maybe he was trying to prove himself something. So what when there had ACTUALLY been a dangerous situation happening and the suspect had escaped? He hadn't known._

_"Thanks to you, Angel," the hero hissed, "a man just escaped. I don't think I need to tell you that a suspect for armed robbery is best behind bars, do I?"_

_Virgil shook his head, trying to claw at the hero's hands. He seemed angry; the kind of angry where he didn't put it past the man to actually choke him to death. If the Prince killed him now, he might not have to deal with his father's anger about him being kicked out of school, however it would definitely incriminate the hero for killing a minor. (And he'd be dead, which was the least of his worries, he realised.)_

_Fighting was definitely not his strong suit._

Thomas turned them around and tried to twist his hand, but Virgil's knee shot up to kick him in the stomach. His apparent victory was short-lived, however; the adult finally grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. This time the pain that shot through Virgil's arm was strong enough to fog his vision and despite himself, he inhaled audibly.

It wasn't a fair fight by any means, given the hero's super strength to begin with, but it had also lasted longer than he had honestly expected. Back when he had tried to teach himself defence, he had thought it might be against low-rank criminals; his goal had never been to fight against the Prince and that became clearer by the second.

Thomas moved behind him and the pain from his arm was gone, replaced by a short (but excruciating) shock that felt as if he had just been struck by lightning. His muscles tensed and immediately went limb.

"Hey buddy," he heard his father mutter, but it was muffled by the noise around him. It didn't make sense and he realised its source a beat too late for his own liking: it was his own breathing and heartbeat drumming in his ears. And he was falling- no- he was being laid down; the _Prince_ \- Thomas- _dad_ \- guiding him.

Nausea was pooling up inside him and a cold familiar feeling spread through him: a panic attack.

* * *

It was then that Virgil finally struck for attack. He attempted to swing at him, Thomas managed to catch the blow mid-air and shifted them around to try and force his son's hands behind his back. Virgil however used this as his chance to kick him in the stomach.

A short pain shot through his right abdomen but he recovered quickly, years of fighting having him used to such unclean techniques and maneuvres.

Seeing his chance, he now managed to grab Virgil's arm and twisted it behind his back, receiving a painful inhale. He pulled the pen out of his pocket in a quick movement and jabbed it against his neck. Almost immediately, the boy's body went stiff and he sunk in on himself.

"Hey buddy," Thomas muttered. Virgil wasn't unconscious, but his eyes were unfocusedly moving around and he groaned softly as he was laid down.

As much as he could currently assess, he wasn't hurt physically. There was dried blood sticking to his clothes but he doubted that it was the teenager's, which was good, at least in a way. He would probably need a lot of therapy after tonight.

Carefully brushing a strand of hair off his son's face, he mentally prepared himself for what was coming and then turned around to face Janus.

If he was being honest, he wasn't really surprised that he had come back for revenge. They had accepted his descent; they had watched while shaking their heads at him, preferring to ignore him when he was clearly struggling with everything.

He drawn the connection before: Virgil and Janus, Janus and Virgil- they were alike. Both had been cursed with powers that neither of them knew how to deal with, and neither of them had found a way to go about them without unintentionally hurting the people around them. They might have started in different places, but the premise was the same.

Had it not been for the shooting at the warehouse, Thomas would have never discovered that his own son had been on the very same path his brother had once wandered. Give or take two more years, and he might have been consumed by his negative emotions as well.

It was sheer luck that they had been forced to deal with things.

And maybe it wasn't Janus' fault with most things either, nobody truly was. But they were at fault for expecting him to deal with it on his own. For years, Thomas had tried to justify that night on the roof, had instilled himself that he had tried his best, that he had been the hero he so desperately aspired to be. Yet he had never wondered what effect it would have on his brother. His brother, who had been there for him in every situation.

Maybe he didn't owe it to him, but he felt obligated to say it, nevertheless.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry."

There. Three words that had never been spoken aloud, laid out for the only person that should've received them from the start.

Not waiting for a reaction, he continued: "I'm sorry I distanced myself from you. And I am sorry I never faced how bad you were doing, I-I didn't know any better. That night-" he gulped down the lump that was forming in his throat- "I didn't- I just... I'm aware that we can't fix this anymore. But you don't have to do this." With a final look at Virgil, who was slowly regaining his senses, he said: "You're not a villain."

They wouldn't recover from this, he knew as much. Too many years had passed, too many sentiments had been ingrained in their subconscious for them to think back to the bond they used to share without bile rising in their throats.

But it was a start, and it was better than having to fight once more.

* * *

_"Virge, Virge, hey, I'm here."_

_He forced himself to look at Patton. He had stopped the car, turned off its engine and was now turned around in the driver's seat to look at him. Because of course he had to have a panic attack now- it wasn't enough that he had been kicked out, it wasn't enough that his dad had left him to grab his stuff and then driven off, sending Patton to pick him up. Patton, who hadn't even spoken to him, just looked at him with disappointment._

_"No," he shook his head. From experience he knew not to deny himself having a panic attack, it would make it worse. So would spiralling. Or thinking about the way his heart was racing, how his fingers were going numb and the cold that- he was doing it. He was fine, he was alive. Just a panic attack. All he had to do was concentrate on-_

_"Virgil, I want you to breathe with-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_His breathing was becoming more erratic, the voice in his head telling him to RUN RUN RUN getting louder at the non- existent threat. Why did Patton have to be here and watch him have an attack, why'd he have to be the one to pick him up, why wouldn't he stop making it WORSE. If Virgil could just-_

Weirdly enough, the memory managed to calm him. Most of his panic attacks made him nauseous, made him cold and think that he was loosing the feeling in his body. Feeling paralysed was nothing too far fetched.

Within a few long minutes- that still felt like breathing through molasses- he had managed to calm down enough to slowly start regaining his senses. And with the panic gone, he now understood what must have happened: he had been electro shocked, which must have short- circuited something inside his brain leading to Janus being kicked out. Had it not been so painful, he might consider it the smartest thing he'd ever witnessed.

It also meant that this was planned, it meant that his father had not given up on him yet.

And the way the scene in front of him was playing out, neither had he on Janus. He was practically pouring his heart out, talking of things Virgil had never known about. By the looks of it, it was working.

Until he took a step forward.

Immediately, Janus' defence seemed to be up again, his temporary enchantment broken. In a last desperate attempt, he pulled a gun out of his coat and aimed it at Thomas.

"Wait," Virgil shouted weakly. The attention shifted to him in an instant, however Janus didn't seem to think him much of a threat as he kept the weapon steadily pointed at the hero, even as the teenager slowly managed to get up. The movement made his head throb and he tried not to wince at his injuries.

"Please don't do this, Janus." Eyeing the gun, he looked at his father as he continued to speak: "I'm mad too. But killing him won't make it better- it'll just make him dead." To be quite frank, he didn't have a clue what he was doing- stalling, perhaps. (But the question remained for what.)

"Ssstay out of this, boy," Janus hissed. "Let the adults handle this."

The sentence triggered something inside him, emotions overtaking him as the past hours flashed through his mind, obscure enough to feel as if they'd been from another lifetime. Gulping down the lump in his throat, he stared at the man. "You dragged me into this. And I _get it_ , okay?! I _know_ how _shitty_ it is when there is _no one_ there for you- when no one has a fucking clue! And I know Dad isn't a good person but _killing him won't change SHIT!_ " Half heartedly, he wiped the tears from his eyes. "And you know that too. Because you've been mind controlling yourself, haven't you."

It had been a weird realisation, one that must've been lurking in his mind as he had been wondering about the _why_ behind everything. Because if Virgil could mind control himself to convince his body that he wasn't hurt, who was to say that Janus wasn't able to prove to himself that this was the only way? After all, jumping off the bridge back then had been _his_ only way- and who knew how long he had been able to use his powers before that.

Logan had written a thesis on mind powers a long time ago, the draft had been open on his computer. It had included the possibility that in case self- conviction worked, it would be harder to break out of the stronger the powers, as there was no one 'in control' anymore. The original motive or emotion would overtake and eradicate rational thought.

And twenty years were a long time.

"What do you mean," Thomas asked but he ignored him.

He theorised out loud: "You've told yourself that this was the only way- killing dad. And you've worked toward that for the better part of twenty years. Yet instead of outright killing him you arranged for everything to be the exact same as that night, even though you've had enough chances." He saw his stance wavering and decided to see it as a sign that he was getting through.

"But then you found me, and you saw my powers, and that threw you off- so you stopped for a while." Not knowing the actual reason, he made a guess: "You saw yourself in me."

As Janus slowly took the gun down, eyes still trained on him, Virgil understood. "You know how to break your own control, but you haven't stopped because-"

"What else is there?" Janus finished for him.

He nodded.

"I tried getting away from it all," he began, then shook his head, "but there wasn't anything. My powers gave me a purpose and I followed their calling, after all, what else was there?" He looked at Thomas. "I understood that there wasn't anything else I could've been."

"Janus, that's not-"

"You did a good job with Virgil-" he flexed his left hand, then smiled. "I'm sorry too."

Alarms were ringing in his head; something about the way he had given up so easily and his words was _wrong_. What if he had misjudged and there was another ace up the villain's sleeve? But before he could intervene, the door to the rooftop burst open. Patton, Logan and (to his surprise) Talyn stepped out, a gun immediately trained on Janus.

"Hands up where I can see them!"

"Guys, wait-"

Logan interrupted his father, "It's fine, Thomas, we have everything under control."

Not quite understanding how they had gotten there, or why Talyn was with them, Virgil suddenly found himself engulfed in a tight hug by Patton. But there was still something wrong, so he tried to push him away. He couldn't put a finger on it, and if they continued to keep him from-

"I said hands up!" His attention was gone from his fussy godfather as he stared at Talyn in awe. Of course he'd seen them at the office before, he'd even worked with them for a few weeks- but they had never shown the sheer authority they were showing off now.

"I give you five more seconds before hell's going to break lose!"

Struggling to push himself away from Patton at last, it finally clicked. Janus didn't have an evil backup plan.

"Virge, it's going to be okay, we're here-"

"You don't understand!" he yelled at Logan. But before he could walk away, he was pulled back with a strong grip, his body still too weak to fight against it once more as he was forced to stay. "Let me go, Logan!" He didn't have time for this, if he didn't hurry, Janus was going to- _"Let go of me!"_

Nothing happened. " _I said let me go_ ," he repeated, louder this time but still with the same result. _"Let me go."_

Why weren't his powers working?! There was no time for shit like this so why was- maybe he was overworked or- this hadn't happened before so what the fuck was-

Janus was walking backwards, the gun dropped from his hand long ago. He was watching Talyn with his hands raised in defeat, all tension gone from his body. He locked eyes with Virgil once more.

No, no no no no no-

* * *

"Hands up where I can see them!" He saw the gun trained on Janus before he even understood what had happened.

"Guys, wait-"

"It's fine, Thomas, we have everything under control," Logan informed him. He wanted to shake his head, wanted to demand what they were doing then when they did have everything under control. But instead he watched as Patton went over to Virgil to check up on him, saw the teenager struggle against his godfather. He had told them to stay away- and now they were here and making the situation worse.

"I said hands up!" the unknown person yelled once more, loud enough to get the gears in his head turning and making him recognise the voice as a department manager in his company- Talyn. Dressed in company attire, he still couldn't quite recognise the way they acted.

"I give you five more seconds before hell's going to break lose!" they warned.

Helplessly, he looked toward Janus.

Maybe it was his own confusion, the events taking place, or just the rain obscuring his vision, but he hadn't noticed just how close his brother had gotten to the roof's ledge. So he visibly startled as Virgil of all people yelled out a weak "No!".

The next minutes were a blur. There was silence, the sound of an impact and a car alarm going off; and finally it was just the sound of the pounding rain and his own heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a rewrite which includes both my second draft and publication, i really wasn't satisfied with the first one. 
> 
> thank you for everyone that has been here from the start, everyone that left kudos and especially those of you who wrote comments, they motivated me greatly. so thank you all for everything. :)  
> there's going to be an epilogue, and maybe a short collection of one shots within that universe/headcannon in the future, so maybe take a look some time ;)


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